


how to grow with sunlight

by koushuu



Series: i have loved you since we were (eight)een [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (mostly cc anyway), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Married Life, Slow Burn, becomes a dadfic later on, minor atsuaran, minor osakita, pinky holding is something that can be so tender and personal, side bokuaka, side komosuna, spoilers for brazil and timeskip arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 105,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koushuu/pseuds/koushuu
Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi is eight years old when he learns that words can have multiple meanings. Eight years old when he learns that the wordsunalso means his cousin’s next door neighbour. Eight years old when he meets Hinata Shouyou.or, the one where they meet as children and learn how to grow and how to love.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Sakusa Kiyoomi & Komori Motoya, Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: i have loved you since we were (eight)een [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915375
Comments: 138
Kudos: 660





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> childhood omihina is something that has a very tender place in my heart and those who follow me on twt know that i have laboured many hours and tears on this so pls be kind to me (and to my fic)
> 
> i dedicate this fic to lia, christine, ira, ari, and casu (thank u for letting me scream and cry in ur dms, ilysm)
> 
> i also made a playlist on [spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4CWwQsin7jwR1EmToVdGtG?si=3VNAf4S2Rn6WRPxXiTFgnQ) for the fic if u want to give it a listen as you read - the songs aren't in any particular order so u can shuffle if u like
> 
> the explicit rating comes later on in the fic

#  **falling:**

###  **falling into you means falling out of my solitude**

**august 2004  
** **sakusa, age eight  
** **hinata, age eight**

Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t like the sun.

The sun is cruel, harsh, and if unprepared, can even leave burns on one’s skin. Sakusa learned that lesson the hard way after a day at an Okinawan beach, when he was at his grandmother’s for the summer. His parents were busy at work and his siblings were old enough to look after themselves but not old enough to look after a six year old child.

“I told you to put on sunscreen but you didn’t listen.” His grandmother gently chastises that evening. She carefully applies aloe vera to the angered areas of her youngest grandchild’s skin, ignoring the pained winces he makes. “You have been blessed to be born with a healthy body and it is your duty to look after it. You cannot be careless with it,” she tells him and presses a light kiss to his forehead.

Eventually, his skin stops peeling and it hurts less to move around and that’s when the young boy makes a silent promise to himself. He vows that he will always protect his body from external forces that threaten it, be it bacteria or anything else.

He will never be unprepared to face the sun again.

Or so he thinks.

On a cool Thursday evening, two years later, Sakusa follows behind his cousin, silently wishing he could spend his evening in the comfort of his own home. To do what? Sakusa doesn’t know himself, but it beats being at some smelly gymnasium. It’s not that Sakusa dislikes Komori’s company - in fact he’s the most tolerable out of all his intolerable cousins - but it’s not as if he _enjoys_ his company either. The single commonality between them is their age and that’s the only reason why their parents decided to burden them with each other. 

It’s times like these that Sakusa wishes he were older. Then he can come home on his own instead of being collected, he can work the kitchen stove and cook a simple meal for himself instead of needing someone to cook for him, and most importantly, he can be alone and no one can think him odd for being content with his own company. Teenagers and adults get away with it, but for some reason unknown to Sakusa, children who want to be alone is a notion unheard of.

Now Sakusa doesn’t really know what volleyball is, only that Komori started to attend an after school club with his neighbour every Tuesday and Thursday. And between joining him or spending the evening with Komori’s younger siblings, the choice is clear for Sakusa.

“Don’t worry about being bad at it, we’re all beginners here,” Komori says, the two of them standing in the doorway of the gym. The atmosphere is filled with sounds of bouncing balls, skidding sneakers, and spirited shouts of encouragement between the club members. Sakusa remains wordless and unmoved. Nothing about the scene in front of him stirs excitement or intrigue. Not until the sun comes into view. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is eight years old when he learns that words can have multiple meanings. Eight years old when he learns that the word _sun_ also means his cousin’s next door neighbour. Eight years old when he meets Hinata Shouyou.

The boy with clementine hair soars through the air with sunshine for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and it’s out and the ball rolls towards the door, towards Sakusa. It’s out and Sakusa expects that he will get upset that he couldn’t land it in or even blame his teammate as children often do, but that’s not what happens.

Instead, the boy lets out a cry of victory, as if his hit hasn’t just been called out. He raises his fist high in the air. “I hit it! I finally hit it!” 

Komori laughs lightly, causing Sakusa to look at him. “Shou-chan’s been practising hitting in mid-air for a few weeks now and he usually mistimes his swing or his jump,” he explains, as if Sakusa is supposed to understand the technicalities of volleyball. Then Komori leaves Sakusa’s side to congratulate Hinata personally, ruffling his orange hair on approach.

Sakusa picks up the ball that Hinata had hit and tosses it between his hands lightly, familiarising himself with the weight and feel of the ball. 

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Sakusa looks up from his hands and sees the sun approach him. He manages a single stiff nod. “Motoya-senpai’s cousin, right?” Another nod. “I’m his next door neighbour! My name’s Hinata Shouyou, what’s your name?”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Hinata gasps, his eyes sparkling. “That’s such a cool name! _Ki-yoo-mi_ ,” he says, testing the name in his mouth. Sakusa blinks. It’s the first time someone has complimented him on his name. He doesn’t think it’s all that special, or at least, not as _cool_ as Hinata was making it out to be. “Can I call you Kiyoomi? You can call me Shouyou if you want!”

It takes a moment for Sakusa to respond. He’s confused, shocked almost. He’s never had someone be so excited over _his_ name. “Why?” He asks.

Hinata turns and tilts his head in a manner that reminds Sakusa of a puppy. A puppy that doesn’t understand what was asked of them. “Well, we’re friends now, right?”

“Friends,” Sakusa repeats. The word sits uncomfortably in his mouth from lack of use. He doesn’t understand what constitutes a friend but he’s certain that it’s not a stranger whom he’s exchanged a mere handful of sentences with. “We’ve only just met,” he points out. “We’re strangers.”

Then Hinata smiles fondly, stirring something unknown and unfamiliar in Sakusa’s chest. “Every friend starts off as a stranger! I mean, everyone’s a stranger until you give them a chance, right?” Hinata then shrugs and takes out a handkerchief, printed with small cartoon onigiris, from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow before folding it and putting it back in his pocket. It doesn’t escape Sakusa’s notice. “Or at least that’s what my mom tells me. Besides, we’re not strangers anymore. You know my name and I know yours.”

Sakusa narrows his eyes skeptically at the earnest boy in front of him. It can’t be that easy to make a friend, can it? He has tried and failed and others have tried and failed and it never seems to go anywhere. Sakusa is too quiet, too comfortable with being alone, too much and yet not enough to be a candidate for friendship. No, it’s not easy to make friends, but maybe it can be easy with Hinata.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” Sakusa mumbles, casting his eyes downwards to the floor, bringing his attention to the dirt stains on his shoelaces - he makes a mental note to soak and clean them later. He doesn’t notice how tightly he grips the ball and how tense his body is until Hinata is at his side, on the tips of his toes, throwing his arm around Sakusa’s shoulders. 

“As long as you have me, Kiyoomi, you will always have a friend!” Hinata declares. His chest puffs out proudly and there’s a self-assured grin on his face, like a knight in one of the fantasy books that Sakusa reads - and maybe he is a knight, Sakusa could believe it.

The older boy finds himself nodding once more. “Okay,” he murmurs, “friends.”

Hinata grins and removes his arm from Sakusa’s shoulders. “Have you played volleyball before?” He shakes his head. “That’s alright, I’ll teach you!” Then Hinata chuckles nervously and looks down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. “Though I don’t think I’ll be a very good teacher, I only just learned how to hit the ball today.”

“I guess that means we can learn together.”

Hinata looks up at Sakusa, his amber doe eyes sparkling at his words. “Do you mean it? Does that mean you’ll join the club?!”

Sakusa hesitates. Maybe he should tell Hinata that this club is supposed to be just a one-time thing. He doesn’t want to go through the mortifying ordeal of getting sweaty _on purpose_ with other children who don’t have the same respect towards hygiene as he does. He already does that at school and now after school? No, Sakusa doesn’t think so.

But the young boy in front of him waits patiently for an answer and well, never let it be said that Sakusa Kiyoomi left anything unfinished. It’s not as if he has anything better to do anyway.

“Yeah, I’ll join the club… Shouyou.” His defences weaken and a small smile slips onto his lips without his permission. Is this Hinata’s influence?

From the smile Hinata gives him, Sakusa learns that evening that the sun doesn’t need a moon to shine at night. 

🏐

Months pass since that Thursday evening and now Hinata and Sakusa are permanent fixtures at each other’s sides, and where the two of them are, Komori is not far behind. Though they’re separated by grades in school, their common ground is the volleyball club. Having joined the club, Sakusa spends more time at his cousin’s house - and that really means at Hinata’s house - and he finds himself looking forward to visiting each time. Excitement. It’s a new feeling but Sakusa isn’t unwelcome to it.

However, this time what he feels is dread. Because this time, it’s not him visiting them, but them visiting him. And not just a visit, but a sleepover. It feels personal and real and Sakusa, for all the books he reads and the vocabulary available to an eight year old, can only describe it as allowing someone into your bubble.

“ _Ojamashimasu_ ,” Hinata and Komori say as they enter the Sakusa residence, removing their shoes at the entrance.

“Whoa! Your house is so big, Kiyoomi!” His voice echoes and Hinata slaps his hand over his mouth, realising how loud he was. “What do your parents do for work?” He asks, his voice now at a more reasonable volume, dropping his hand from his mouth.

“My mother is a paediatrician and my father owns a pharmaceutical company,” Sakusa explains as he leads them towards his bedroom, which used to be his eldest brother’s room until he got married a year ago. “I have three older siblings, two of them have already moved out and the other is in her final year of high school and will be moving out for college.” They pass Sakusa’s sister’s bedroom. “She’s at a friend’s house tonight, she won’t be bothering us.” 

“Wait… That means there’s about a nine year difference between you and your next closest sibling!” Hinata exclaims, the shock evident on his face. Then he frowns. “Sounds like you were lonely growing up.”

“I was.”

Komori tries not to wince at those two simple words. His home life is different. He’s in the middle of his siblings, two older and two younger, with his oldest sibling being only three years older than him. He once thought being forced to spend time with Sakusa is a burden. It’s not until Hinata came along that Komori really took the time to get to know his cousin. 

“Well you’ve got us now,” says Komori, throwing an arm around Sakusa who narrows his eyes dangerously at him for the physical contact. _He never does that for Hinata_ , Komori thinks, but then again, Hinata is different. He laughs lightly as he raises his arms in surrender. “What are we doing first then? Should we put on a movie?”

Hinata gasps. “We should make a blanket fort! We can watch a movie under it and bring all the toys underneath and then we can sleep there tonight!”

Komori sighs and shakes his head. “That’ll make a lot of mess and Sakusa doesn’t like mess-”

“Let’s do it,” interrupts Sakusa and while Hinata shouts for joy, Komori swears he can see the tiniest of stars in his cousin’s eyes. Stars that Hinata put there. 

An hour passes before the three boys successfully put up their blanket fort. Three futons are spread across the floor, accompanied with several cartoon-printed blankets, pillows, and plush toys facing the small television. Upon Sakusa’s insistence for some semblance of organisation, there’s a designated snack corner where juice boxes and a variety of sweets and potato chips temporarily reside. 

“So who’s getting what futon?” Hinata asks. It’s the polite way of asking, _who is sleeping in the middle?_ since both Hinata and Komori know that Sakusa has silently called dibs on an outside futon.

Komori glances over to his cousin. He notices a slight redness in his cheeks. Is that a blush? Komori tries not to grin too obviously. He picks up his bag and tosses it on the other outside futon, sealing Hinata’s fate. “I’ll take this one! I want the extra space to play with my action figures and I don’t want to trip over either of you if I need the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

“That’s fine with me!” Hinata says, and as he moves his things beside the middle futon, Komori spies a very subtle relieved smile on Sakusa’s face. 

Komori knows it’s not because Sakusa dislikes him - and he knows this because he asked Sakusa before - but simply because he likes Hinata _more_ , and really, Komori can’t blame him. Especially because he likes Hinata more than his cousin too. 

When the next morning comes, Komori is the first one awake. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the palm of his hand as he sits up, yawning all the while. He looks over to his side to check if either of his best friends are awake yet but is greeted with a surprising sight. He blinks several times and rubs his eyes again just to make sure it isn’t some imagined scene in front of him.

Under Hinata’s chibi bird blanket, he and Sakusa are snuggled together, both curled up as they face each other, their pinky fingers overlapping as if they swore a promise to each other in their sleep. Some time in the middle of the night, either Hinata or Sakusa - Komori bets on the latter - must have consciously moved to be closer to the other. Or perhaps, one naturally rolled over in his sleep to be nearer to the other, and though Komori believes this to be unlikely, it isn’t impossible. 

Only months ago did Komori think that Sakusa was a burden, and now, he’s not just his cousin, but one of his dearest friends. So really, anything seems possible when Hinata Shouyou is considered in the equation. 

Komori considers waking them up, but before he decides anything, he hears the unmistakable sound of a camera flash from the bedroom door. He looks over and sees his aunt, Sakusa Sayuri, leaning against the open door frame, a fond smile on her face as she lowers the camera, taking out the photograph and tucking it into her apron pocket to allow it to develop in the dark. She makes eye-contact with her nephew and wordlessly puts her index finger up to her lips. Komori nods once. She smiles again and beckons for him to follow her. He obediently gets to his feet and follows her out of the bedroom, the door closing behind him with a soft click, and walks down the stairs into the kitchen.

“Come and help me prepare breakfast,” is all she says as she sets the camera down on the kitchen island and takes the photograph out of her apron, putting it down on the side. Komori joins her and they silently prepare the food.

Despite having a child-focused career, Komori has never heard Sayuri say more than a couple of sentences at once to him or any of his other relatives. The same goes for his uncle, Sakusa Ryota, man of few words whose philosophy is, “ _If you cannot say what you mean as simply as you can, then it is not worth being said._ ” Komori doesn’t really understand what is meant by that but he wonders what it’s like for Sakusa, growing up in such an environment. 

He imagines it’s quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that causes a ringing in one’s ear from overexposure to silence. The kind of quiet that’s so loud, even voicing your thoughts aloud becomes muted speech, so it’s safer to leave one’s thoughts in the haven of their mind. Maybe that’s why Sakusa winces every time Komori’s younger siblings laugh and shout, or why he keeps to himself and stays in the corner of each room they’re in unless it’s his own. Maybe it’s self-preservation. 

At least, that’s what it was until Hinata came along, coming into Sakusa’s life like the sun after a long night. 

“He’s different, isn’t he?”

Komori almost drops the egg in his hands from the sudden break in silence. He turns to look at his aunt who keeps her attention focused on the frying pan. Komori can’t tell whether she’s asking if Sakusa is the one who has changed and is different, or if she’s asking if Hinata is different from them. 

At any rate, Komori’s answer is the same so it doesn’t matter whom she was asking after. He looks towards the fully-developed photograph of Sakusa and Hinata sleeping together under the same blanket, their pinkies overlapped in a promise made in their dreams. Komori smiles as he answers, “Yes, he is.”

**april 2005  
** **sakusa, age nine  
** **hinata, age eight**

“You can’t be a wing spiker, you’re too short,” Rin says, folding his arms. Two boys flank him, standing behind him and nodding in agreement. Classic three versus one. Hinata sits on the floor cross-legged, quietly spinning a volleyball in his hands while he waits for Komori and Sakusa to arrive at the club. His back faces the three boys. It’s not until Rin speaks up again that Hinata turns around, realising that he is the one being addressed. “Oi, I’m talking to you. You’re too short to be a wing spiker, Hinata.”

Hinata tilts his head in confusion. “I still have lots of time to grow. And I can jump,” he points out innocently.

“Well, yeah, but you’re still the shortest here. And you can’t jump _all_ the time,” Rin retorts. Again, the two boys behind him silently agree, nodding along to his words. “Besides, the pro teams always choose the tallest players.”

“But just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you’re any good...?” Eavesdroppers around them hear and gasp and Hinata doesn’t understand why. He’s only stating the facts? He’s not trying to pick a fight with anyone, like Rin is obviously trying to do with him. “I mean, yeah obviously height is important but it’s not the only thing that counts in volleyball.”

“You can work as hard as you want, Hinata, but at the end of the day, no one will pick you. And if no one picks you, you can’t be the ace.” The henchmen behind Rin jeer at their leader’s words. “You would be better off as a libero, but Komori-senpai is better than you at receiving. Really, there’s no place for you, so what are you still doing here?”

Hinata looks up at them, eyes shiny from tears that threaten to spill over. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to say something but finds himself wordless. What can he say? Deep down, he knows it’s true, that if he is put next to a tall player with the same skillset as his, the latter would be chosen over him. He hates knowing this truth. He wants nothing more than to prove that this truth is lie.

“What are _you_ still doing here, Nakagawa?”

Everyone looks to the source of the voice. Sakusa Kiyoomi. His face is thunderous and his fists are curled at his sides. Each step he takes seems to shake the ground - well, to eight and nine year olds at least.

“Sakusa-senpai! Well you see--”

“No.” That shuts Rin up.

“What’s going on here?” Komori asks, noticing the tense atmosphere as he enters the gym. He looks at the scene in front of him. Rin, the annoying, self-appointed ace of the club, his goons, Hinata looking as if he’s about to cry, and Sakusa looking too murderous for a boy his age.

“I overheard Bakagawa saying how there’s no place for Shouyou,” Sakusa explains curtly and Komori nods in understanding. Of course he would happily join Sakusa’s side and protect Hinata, but something tells Komori that his cousin has it all handled. Plus, he knows that people respect Sakusa more. Well, maybe fear is more fitting than respect. And he would rather watch Sakusa verbally rip into them.

“It’s _N_ akagawa, not Ba--”

“Bakagawa,” Sakusa deadpans. Rin shuts up again, then flinches when Sakusa takes a step towards him. “You talk big for someone who can’t pick a fight without having his idiots back him up. How lame.”

One of the idiots bristles at that and starts to speak up. “Who do you think you ar--”

“You can understand Japanese? That’s great, and here I thought you were some mindless ape that only does what his master tells him. Anyway, I’m not talking to you, ape, I’m talking to your owner--”

“Kiyoomi, that’s mean,” Hinata pipes up, forcing everyone’s attention on him. He sniffles and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand before looking at Rin and his friends, his head tilting to the side. “You shouldn’t say such mean things about apes, they’re actually smart animals unlike… well…” Hinata trails off and everyone catches his meaning, snickering behind their hands. Sakusa smirks and Komori grins. That’s their Shouyou.

Rin’s face grows in redness and he breathes sharply through his nose. “Let’s leave!” He tells his goons but Sakusa lifts his hand up, stopping them.

“No, _we’ll_ leave. If Shouyou doesn’t have a place here, then neither do I.”

“And me too,” Komori adds, joining Sakusa’s side, protectively sandwiching Hinata between them. Before anyone could protest, they walked out of the gymnasium together. Thankfully, Komori’s parents, Aika and Ryuji, are still chatting to another pair of parents in the foyer and are surprised to see the three walk towards them. They don’t tell them much, only that they’re not really feeling volleyball that night. When Aika looks at the glossiness of Hinata’s eyes, she doesn’t question them further and takes them back home. 

After getting permission from Sakusa Sayuri and Hinata Mirai, the three boys have an impromptu sleepover in the Komori household. 

“Motoya-senpai, why are you a libero?” Hinata asks through the dark of the night. The three of them lay side by side, Hinata in the middle as always, as they stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on Komori’s bedroom ceiling.

“Because I want to be.”

Hinata isn’t satisfied with that answer and he squirms in his blanket. “But you’re so good, you could play any position. Why libero?”

“Well, why do _you_ want to be an ace?” Komori returns the question.

“Because it’s cool. I want to be like the Little Giant from Karasuno, to defeat players taller than me,” answers Hinata without hesitation.

“And I want to be a libero because I think it’s cool. Everyone else can worry about spiking, but you can’t spike unless you have someone receive the ball. Volleyball only starts with the receive.”

Hinata stays quiet as he mulls over Komori’s words. Is it that simple? To just _be_ something because you want to? There doesn’t need to be another reason for it? 

“I’ll be back in a minute, I need to pee,” Komori excuses himself, throwing the blanket off and running out of the bathroom, squeezing his legs together awkwardly in that fashion that everyone does when they suddenly become desperate.

Hinata is prepared to sleep when he feels Sakusa poke his arm. “Do you think the Little Giant from Karasuno became the Little Giant because people told him that he could?” Sakusa asks quietly. “No, he was probably told the same thing, that he’s too short. And yet he went to Nationals.”

“What are you saying, Kiyoomi?”

“No one chooses an easy dream, Shouyou, that’s why it’s called a dream.”

Silence blankets the two young boys. Hinata moves closer to Kiyoomi and lays on his front, half on Sakusa and half on the futon, his arm settles on his chest while his head lays on Sakusa’s collarbone. The older boy instinctively wraps one arm around Hinata, pulling him closer into a hug.

“I want to see it… I want to see past over the wall, I want to see the view from the top. I want to stand on the world stage,” Hinata murmurs against Sakusa’s shirt, “but I can’t do it alone. Will you help me see it, Kiyoomi? Will you stand with me?”

 _Yes_ , Sakusa thinks, _anything for you_. 

“Always.”

By the time Komori comes back from the bathroom, his two best friends are fast asleep together. He may not know what a third wheel is yet, but he feels the same sickly sweet feeling building in the back of his throat when he sees his parents being all lovey-dovey. He rolls his eyes and grabs his blanket off the floor before jumping into his bed.

**march 2008  
** **sakusa, age twelve  
** **hinata, age eleven**

“Promise you won’t forget me, Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows, surprised by the sudden request for a heavy promise. Hinata usually leaves important conversations for a more private setting, such as their bedrooms, but here they are, walking along the riverside of Ueno Park on their way home from school, people passing them left, right and centre. If Hinata couldn’t wait to talk to Sakusa at home, then it means it’s been weighing on his mind all day. 

“As if you would ever let me forget you,” he tells him.

Hinata ignores that. “Promise me.” He stops walking, despite the constant flow of passersby, and holds up his pinky finger.

Sakusa stares at the little finger in front of his face for a moment before pushing it away. He doesn’t need to promise because it will never happen. “Why are you asking me this, Shouyou?” 

The younger boy’s lips curl in a tight pout and he walks away from Sakusa to sit on a riverside bench. Sakusa follows and sits down next to him. Silence follows but it’s not the kind of silence he grew up with. Sakusa likes this silence because he knows that Hinata will eventually end it. It’s just a matter of when. 

They sit under the sakura trees, its flowers almost ready to bloom for hanami, which, according to the weather bureau, is due to happen in a week. Paper lanterns are placed in the trees for _yozakura_ , to illuminate the flowers at night for viewing. Ahead of them, Shinobazuno pond is full of two-man boats of tourists, both local and international. Amidst the sound of paddled water, the chatter of people around them, and the general white noise of the city, it’s oddly quiet, peaceful even. Sakusa wonders why he’s never noticed it before. Why is it so different now?

Sakusa looks to his left and finds his answer. _Of course,_ he thinks. He only started seeing the world differently when he met the sun. 

“You know, it’s never bothered me before, you and me being in separate grades because we always found each other during breaks and also the volleyball club after school but…” Hinata trails off, becoming unusually quiet, but Sakusa doesn’t need him to finish his sentence. He knows what he’s trying to say.

“Is this about me and Komori going to middle school?”

Hinata tries not to wince but his lack of emotional restraint betrays him. “No! I mean, kind of… what if you find a better volleyball player than me… or who someone can spike a ball better than me…”

“Shouyou, _I_ can spike a volleyball better than you can.” Hinata’s mouth drops open in disbelief. He’s prepared to make some sort of retort, then Sakusa continues on. “Besides, it’s only a year. And it’s not as if you’ll never see us again.”

“Well, I’ll see Motoya-senpai anyway, since we live next to each other and all, so it’s not him I’m worried about…” Hinata fiddles with the strap of his bag. “What if you stop playing volleyball and find something cooler to do instead?”

 _What if you stop being my friend and find someone better instead?_ is the real question that Hinata leaves unasked.

Sakusa holds back a laugh. His earlier remark is incorrect because it’s not a matter of Hinata letting Sakusa forget him. As if he could ever forget his first friend, and outside of Komori, his _only_ friend. No, Hinata shouldn’t have to worry about his position in Sakusa’s life. If anyone should be concerned over their place, it should be Sakusa. Hinata has a talent for befriending strangers, even the most unapproachable ones (Exhibit A: Sakusa himself). What if he finds someone better than Sakusa? Perhaps not _better_ than Sakusa _,_ that’s phrased wrong, but someone better _for_ Hinata. 

He sighs and tentatively reaches out for Hinata’s hand with his little finger, locking their pinkies together and letting their joint hands rest on the bench. His best friend looks up at him with wide eyes and Sakusa can’t blame him for the surprise. He has no issues with Hinata touching him, but he seldom initiates physical contact himself.

“I won’t stop playing volleyball.” Sakusa pauses. “And I won’t stop being your friend, which is what you’re actually concerned about.”

Hinata laughs weakly, a blush forming on his round cheeks. Sakusa wonders what they would feel like if he just poked them. “I wasn’t very subtle, was I?” 

Sakusa shakes his head and squeezes their pinkies together. “No, you really aren’t, but it’s okay. My only condition is that you won’t stop being my friend either.”

The orange-haired boy loosens his pinky so he can adjust his grip, fully holding Sakusa’s hand in his. He inches closer to his best friend, resting his head on his shoulder. “Kiyoomi, do you remember what I said when we first met?”

Oh... how could he forget?

_As long as you have me, you will always have a friend._

Sakusa rests his head against Hinata’s. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Then you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa smiles softly.

**june 2008  
** **sakusa, age twelve  
** **hinata, age twelve**

Sakusa’s first months at Dosho Middle School pass by quietly but not alone. He and Komori are in the same class and depending on the day, Sakusa considers it either a blessing or a curse. On Tuesdays and Fridays, it’s both. Komori has his own group of friends and sometimes, if his social battery is fully charged, Sakusa joins them during lunches and breaks. His cousin isn’t joined to his hip but he isn’t too far away; far enough for comfortable space, close enough to remind him he’s not alone. Sakusa is grateful for Komori’s thoughtfulness.

Together, they join the volleyball club. Sakusa’s talent is first recognised during their first spike and receiving drills, when it was (literally) pointed out how it’s the snap from his unusually flexible wrists which gives the ball a sharp spin, making it difficult for even Dosho’s official libero to receive. Still, even that isn’t enough to secure Sakusa a position on the starting lineup for the middle school regional competition, since he can’t quite control it yet. Half the time, the ball appears to be within bounds, only for it to suddenly veer off-course and out of bounds at the last second. 

For Sakusa to be part of the starting lineup, he needs to gain increased control.

This frustration is a new feeling, one that sends Sakusa’s blood boiling. He spends solo practices doing serve and receive drills with Komori and when he’s tired of Komori failing to receive his serves, he does wall drills and solo serves. Sakusa, and by association, Komori are usually the last ones left in the gymnasium. The former won’t stop, not even at the behest of the coaches or the captain, until he’s finished his self-set amount of tosses, spikes, or serves. It’s times like these that Komori wishes he had Hinata’s ability to influence Sakusa because nothing he says can persuade his cousin to stop. That said, Komori thinks that Hinata won’t stop him either, but would join him instead. They’re both monsters who don’t know when to stop.

One day in late June, Dosho’s gymnasium falls silent when the sound of a ball smacking the hardwood floor within bounds of the court rings throughout the hall. The team remains silent, they’re not about to cheer for a fluke. They watch, serve after serve, each one on target (some which are untouched) and after the tenth service ace, they applaud and cheer for Sakusa. 

“This time, this time for sure we’ll beat Shiratorizawa! We’ll beat that Ushiwaka!” Kamiya, one of Sakusa’s upperclassmen says, determination burning in his eyes. Shiratorizawa? Ushiwaka? Sakusa gathers that the former is a school, a strong one if Kamiya’s reaction is anything to go by, and the latter is a player, but it’s not until he asks Komori later on that he better understands.

Komori pushes the ball trolley into the store cupboard as he answers. “A powerhouse school in Sendai. Both the middle school and the high school teams are the number one teams for their level in Miyagi.” They walk out and Komori locks the door behind them. “Ushiwaka is Ushijima Wakatoshi, a southpaw wing spiker who’s a year older than us. They call him the ‘Young Giant.’”

“A southpaw… let me guess, it’s the spin he puts on the ball that makes him formidable.”

Komori shrugs. “Apparently, but the way our upperclassmen talk about him tells me that there’s more to him than just being a southpaw. We won’t know until we face them.”

“I look forward to it.”

**august 2008**

The All Japan Middle School Volleyball Tournament is held in late August. Dosho won their qualifiers back in July, securing one of the three spots as Tokyo’s representative, with Ushimi and Mori Middle School as the other two. It’s the third day of the tournament, which, Sakusa now learns, is the worst day of all. Why would they make them play _two_ games on the same day? It’s asinine, he thinks.

They already played Seiho in the morning, beating them in straight sets. Just by the luck of the draw, they’re matched against Ushimi in the afternoon and if they win, they play Shiratorizawa in the quarterfinals tomorrow. Sakusa can feel his fingers itching for a ball - is this how Hinata feels all the time? - just to touch it, to hold it in his hands to sate his adrenaline. He’s never felt this excited about playing before, especially against someone whom he’s only heard of through rumours. Just _who_ is this Ushiwaka? What makes him special? One more day and he’ll find out.

“I’ll be cheering for you, Kiyoomi and Motoya-senpai!” Hinata beams up at them, his smile bright as ever.

Komori grins back and he reaches for Hinata’s hair, ruffling it affectionately. “You better. I expect to hear you from the stands, Shou-chan!”

Hinata salutes, taking it as if it’s a personal mission. “Of course, Motoya-senpai!”

“You better give him something to cheer for, if you do those shoddy receives from before then…” Sakusa trails off. His tone is blunt and bland and to the untrained ear, he sounds mean, but both Hinata and Komori know better. They know that it’s Sakusa’s version of teasing. _He’s in a good mood,_ Komori thinks.

“Well you better get your serves and spikes on target… wouldn’t want to get benched so you could cool your head like the last game…” Komori grins devilishly, earning him a cold glare from his cousin. 

Sakusa is about to make another snarky comment in return but Hinata, the darling angel he is, intervenes by physically stepping in between them. “Carry on like this and I’ll cheer for the other team!” He threatens and that shuts them up. Hinata grins and Komori rolls his eyes fondly. If Hinata never made an appearance in their lives, he would have missed out on all of this.

Their captain calls them back to the court as the game before theirs is five points away from finishing. They say their temporary goodbyes and part ways. 

Hinata decides to go to the bathroom before he heads to the spectator stands, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of the game simply because of his weak bladder. He makes his way towards the bathroom… or at least he would if he actually knew where it was. Hinata tries to find a sign to point him in the right direction but there’s too many people and too many of them are too tall and the venue is too big. Argh! He should have brought one of his friends with him so he wouldn’t be alone! At least they would be lost together rather than just lost on his own. How pathetic...

“Are you looking for something? Or someone?” Hinata whips around to see who interrupts his thoughts. A potential saviour sent to guide him perhaps?

The boy is as tall as Motoya-senpai, with messy black hair and gunmetal blue eyes, wearing a jersey with a bold number two in the centre, and his cheeks are slightly red and shiny, as if he’s been sweating. Ah, his game must have finished, Hinata realises. But it’s not the game before Dosho’s - the leading team has five points until they win the game and the tables can easily turn. Plus, this boy came from the other court. He wonders if they won. Perhaps not, considering that the boy doesn’t seem overly enthusiastic or happy. Or maybe he’s like Kiyoomi, doesn’t really show how he feels on the outside?

“I can’t find the bathroom…” Hinata admits, almost sheepishly.

The boy raises his eyebrows. “How good are you with directions?”

Hinata straightens his stance. “Well, _I_ would say I’m good with them but Kiyoomi and Motoya-senpai probably wouldn’t agree.”

The boy nods once and replies, “I only ask so I know whether to show you myself or simply just give you directions.” He turns to one of his passing teammates and tells them that he’ll be along shortly, that he just needs the bathroom, before turning back to Hinata. “Follow me.” And Hinata does.

“Thank you…?” Hinata trails off, upon realising he doesn’t know his saviour’s name.

“Akaashi Keiji,” he supplies helpfully. “From Mori Middle School.”

“I’m Hinata Shouyou! Thank you, Akaashi-san, you’re so nice and kind, I owe you one!” The older boy looks surprised by the sudden outburst of praise from a stranger. Then his face softens by the slight upturn in the corner of his mouth. _Is that a smile?_ Hinata wonders. 

“You don’t owe me anything, Hinata-kun.”

“I’ll help you out one day! I swear it!”

“Alright then. One day.” Akaashi plays along because, well, he’s never met anyone quite like Hinata before. Most normal people would be wary of strangers and yet here Hinata is, all warm and bright much like the August summer outside. Something tells Akaashi that this isn’t the first time Hinata’s had an encounter like this. He’s endearing and though they’ve only known each other for a mere five minutes, Akaashi finds himself already fond of the younger boy. He’s an only child so he has no siblings, but if he had the choice, he thinks he would want a younger brother like Hinata.

They converse about other things after that, mainly volleyball. Hinata learns that Akaashi is his team’s official setter and they did in fact lose their third round match. He’s in the middle of telling Hinata that he neither likes nor dislikes volleyball when they arrive at the men’s bathroom.

“Sounds like you’re not playing volleyball for yourself, but for other people,” Hinata says, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, you gotta find your reason for wanting to stand on the court, otherwise, why spend your time doing something you don’t really enjoy?”

Akaashi contemplates Hinata’s words, finding some truth to them. Is this kid really only a year younger than him? 

“I mean, I get it if you don’t actually enjoy volleyball, but when I met you, you were all sweaty and red in the face. Someone who doesn’t enjoy playing wouldn’t try that hard if they didn’t want to win,” Hinata adds on. It’s only then that he becomes aware of his surroundings. “Oh! We’re here already! Thank you for your help, Akaashi-san!” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Akaashi turns to walk away, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly when Hinata calls out after him. He wears a smile as bright as day as he waves. “I’ll see you here next year, Akaashi-san! So work hard!”

The setter allows himself a small smile and he nods courteously, waving his hand once. “See you next year, Hinata-kun.” They bow to each other politely before turning away from each other and parting ways, Akaashi disappearing into the crowd of people.

As Hinata is about to walk into the bathroom, the door is suddenly pushed out and smacks him directly on the face. He cries out and stumbles backwards, falling to the floor. There’s a panicked gasp and he can only assume it’s his unintentional attacker. Hinata rubs his forehead to alleviate the pain.

“Ah! Sorry about that!” Hinata looks up and sees a tall boy, either the same age or older than Akaashi, with spiky light grey hair with black streaks and round, golden eyes. He reminds Hinata of an owl that he watched in a nature documentary once with Sakusa and Komori. He holds his hand out and Hinata doesn’t hesitate, allowing himself to be pulled up. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I? Gah… I’m so sorry!”

The boy sounds genuinely apologetic and Hinata doesn’t have it in him to be seriously mad. Accidents happen after all. Instead he just grins up at the stranger. “As if a door could take me out that easily! Don’t worry about it! It was just an accident, don’t have to be sorry!”

The boy tilts his head to the side, confused at Hinata’s reaction. “You sure? I did hit you pretty hard…”

Hinata laughs. “I’ve had a volleyball spike to the face before and that hurt more than having a door smacked in my face.”

The stranger laughs with him and fondly slaps Hinata’s back, as if they’re close friends. “Right?! Last year, during the qualifiers, I stepped too far forward when receiving the ball and it hit me square in the face. It was really embarrassing but I just laughed it off because then people are laughing with me instead of at me.”

It’s only then that Hinata takes notice of the jersey number that the boy wears: a proud number four centred on his chest. If Hinata remembers what Komori told him before, the number four is usually reserved for the team’s ace. Hinata gasps in amazement, mouth dropped, eyes shining like stars as he looks up at the boy. “You’re the ace of your team? That’s so cool!”

The boy takes a second to process the praise before his face breaks out into a large smile. “Bokuto Koutarou! Ace of Ushimi Middle School!”

“Hinata Shouyou! Grade Six in Sano Elementary! I aim to be the next little giant one day! Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san!”

“Hey hey hey! That’s a great goal to have! I like you already, Hinata!”

“I like you too, Bokuto-san! When’s your next game? I’ll come watch you, I want to see a real life ace in action!”

“In fifteen minutes, I think! We’re playing against Dosho.”

Hinata freezes.

Dosho? As in, Dosho Middle School?

As in Dosho Middle School that both Sakusa and Komori play for? Oh no.

“Hinata? Hey, are you okay?”

The clementine-haired boy snaps out of his thoughts and forces a smile on his face. “Yes, I’m fine! I’m great!”

Bokuto looks skeptical but doesn’t question further. Instead he just grins and lightly ruffles Hinata’s hair and says, “Well I’ve got to go, need to do warmups, but I’ll see you there, alright?” Hinata nods his head and waves goodbye.

After going to the bathroom, Hinata makes his way towards the court, his stomach feeling queasier than ever despite having already gone to the bathroom. How can he cheer for both teams? His face scrunches up in discomfort, as if the fate of the human race depends on how he solves this moral dilemma. And to a twelve year old, maybe it does. Wait why is he even worried about this? It doesn’t matter if he cheers for both. Besides, he’ll only be cheering for Bokuto, not his team, whereas Hinata will cheer for all of Dosho, especially Sakusa and Komori. 

Because of the amount of middle schools still present, the match between Dosho and Ushimi is within the subarena, meaning that spectators will have to stand around the court to watch. He finds a spot near the referee, right next to the barriers, knowing that it’ll have the best vantage point to watch the game. Though this also means that if Komori is pressed to do a super save or an emergency set, then there’s a chance he might crash into the barriers so Hinata will need to be prepared to leap out of the way if that does happen.

“Hey hey hey! Hinata, hey!” Bokuto grins and waves at him from across the court. Hinata, fully aware of how short he is amongst all of the adults and middle schoolers present, raises both his arms and waves back.

“Bokuto-san!”

This small interaction does not go unnoticed. Sakusa looks back and forth between the two, curious and also slightly threatened. Who does this Bokuto Koutarou think he is, putting stars in Hinata’s eyes without him? Komori catches Sakusa’s eyes and before he could even stop him, his cousin is already making his way to Hinata, despite his captain’s questions as to where he’s going five minutes before the match. Komori rushes through an apology before running after his idiot cousin.

Hinata’s face lights up when he sees his best friends approach, but his smile starts to fade when he sees the serious look on Sakusa’s face. “Shouyou, how do you know Ushimi’s ace? When did you meet? And why wasn’t I there?” Sakusa asks, gripping his shoulders and holding him at arms’ length.

“Sakusa, that’s enough,” Komori scolds, but it’s half-hearted, since he too is curious as to the new friendship between Hinata and Bokuto.

Hinata tilts his head, like a confused puppy - it’s been four years, will he ever stop looking like a puppy? - and replies, “Like, fifteen minutes ago? He accidentally smacked my face with the door but it was really my fault for not looking where I was going, anyways, he apologised and we got to talking and…” Sakusa and Komori share a look as Hinata continues his ramble, as if they’re communicating telepathically through the bond they shared as cousins. “...and then I said I wanted to watch an ace in action and cheer for him but then he said he’s playing against Dosho and well, yeah…” Hinata finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly at Sakusa who is still holding his shoulders.

Komori laughs and shakes his head fondly. “You’ve got a habit for making friends with strangers, Shou-chan.”

“Oh! And I didn’t even tell you about Akaashi-san!”

Sakusa and Komori share another look. How many friends did he make in their absence? They only left him alone for ten minutes!

“You’re all my friends and I’m going to cheer for all of you!” Hinata says, smiling warmly at them. Sakusa softens his hold on Hinata and lets his arms drop to his sides. He can’t win against Hinata, not when he has his mind fixed on a decision. Hinata reaches out with his pinky, holding Sakusa’s little finger, locking their fingers together as they always do. “Besides, he might be the ace, but he’s not my favourite volleyball player.”

“That’s right, Shou-chan, because your favourite player is me!” Komori says, grinning cheekily, puffing his chest out, earning him another cold glare from his cousin and a laugh from Hinata.

“Of course, Motoya-senpai! You’re my favourite libero and Kiyoomi is my favourite wing spiker!”

“See, Sakusa? We’re _both_ his favourites!” Komori playfully pokes Sakusa who does little to hide his displeasure at his cousin, but Hinata feels him squeeze his pinky and he knows Sakusa is okay. They’re both called to the lineup and Hinata waves them off with another shout of good luck.

Sakusa was half-counting on Ushimi’s ace to have an off-day, but in fact he seems more lively than when Dosho faced him in the finals of the qualifiers. He wonders if it’s Hinata’s praise that has him fired up. If it is, he understands - Hinata’s praises get him fired up too. But at this moment, it’s not good for Dosho. Komori places enough pressure by managing to dig up most of his straights but his cross-shots are nearly untouchable. They manage to snatch the first set away from Ushimi, but ultimately it’s them who take the win, the third set ending in a 28-26 deuce, the echoing of Bokuto’s “Hey, hey, hey!” ringing throughout the subarena.

Afterwards, they grab their bags and slowly start making their way towards the buses. Sakusa holds onto his bag strap tightly with one hand and the other holding Hinata’s hand through their pinky fingers. As Hinata talks to Komori next to him, Sakusa wonders what he lacks. Is it experience? Is it because this is his first National tournament? Or is it just an off day for him? Perhaps he focused too much on the opponent beyond the one in front of him that he underestimated Bokuto. Yes that’s it, he thinks, he fixated on playing against this so-called Ushiwaka that he forgot all about the opponent in front of him. A mistake he won’t make again.

“-- and Kiyoomi! You’re so cool! Your spikes were like WAH and BAM and then because of the spin you put on the ball with your wrists, it goes WHOOSH!” Hinata’s excitement is infectious and it’s almost enough for Sakusa to forget his disappointment. Almost. Losing has a bitter taste to it and he doesn’t want to do it again. If Hinata praises him like this when he loses, what will it be like when he wins? Sakusa wants to find out.

“Next year you can help us win, Shou-chan,” Komori says, grinning. 

“I can’t wait to play in a real match with both of you!”

Sakusa almost forgets that Hinata will join them next year. Of course, there’s no need to wallow. Not when he’ll have Hinata at his side like he should, like it’s always been. Next year he’ll have Hinata standing with him on the court and they’ll take this Young Giant from the East down together. But even if they don’t, losing won’t be as bitter if Hinata’s there by his side.

🏐

" _Okaasan,_ _onii-chan,_ hurry!” Natsu whines childishly. She shows her frustration in the best way any six year old knows how: she stomps her feet hard on the ground. Then she moves onto the next stage of a child’s frustration. Her bottom lip quivers and her glossy eyes already spilling tears. “Kiyo-nii and Moto-nii are already there and what if we can’t get a seat and we miss the fireworks and--” 

“It’ll be okay, Natsu! They would have saved seats for us, promise! And the fireworks don’t start for another two hours,” Hinata says reassuringly, like a good older brother. He takes out a hankie - a habit he learned from Kiyoomi - from a hidden pocket in his yukata and crouches down to her level, gently wiping her tears away from her flushed cheeks. “Okaasan is just paying for parking, okay? And then we’ll find Kiyoomi and Motoya-senpai.”

“It’s okay, I already called Aika-san,” Hinata Mirai, Natsu and Shouyou’s mother, says, walking up behind them and taking both of their hands in hers. They begin to walk towards the lights and crowds. “She knows we’d be about thirty minutes late.”

“Why are we late in the first place?” Natsu whines.

Before Mirai can reply, Hinata cuts in and gives her one of the many plum flavoured lollipops that he’d bought earlier for Kiyoomi. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here now.” 

He’s thankful that Natsu is only a child and though she’s clever for her age, she’s easily distracted. Hinata doesn’t know how to explain to her that their single mother works most of the day six days of the week, which is why they spend so much time with the Komori family who live next door. Today, their mother had to stay to cover a sick coworker’s shift until the replacement could come in which is why they’re running late.

Hinata feels his mother squeeze his hand gratefully, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He smiles brightly back at her, as if to communicate: _You can count on me!_

They soon find their friends, or rather, they find them. The Komori family easily spot the trademark tangerine hair of the Hinata family and wave them down. The parents take their seats at a picnic table whilst the children occupy two large blankets laid out on the grass for them. 

Mirai glances at Kiyoomi, the only representative of the Sakusa family, at this small gathering of theirs and feels her heart sink a little. Where is Ryota and Sayuri? They said they would make it this time. She looks at Aika and Ryuji, who seem to sense the wordless question and they silently shake their head. Mirai sighs. She’s sure they have their reasons but is just _one_ evening too much to ask for?

“ _Okaasan_! Can Kiyoomi and I go around the festival please?” Hinata asks with lips pursed in a pleading pout, his puppy eyes wide. Sakusa stands behind him politely but even he’s looking at Mirai with hopeful eyes. 

It’s an easy answer.

“Sure, but why don’t you take Motoya-kun with you?”

“I’m happy to stay here, Mirai-san!” Motoya says with a smile. “Besides, I’m full, but Sakusa insisted on waiting for Shou-chan before he ate.”

“So can we?” Hinata asks. “Please?”

“Yes, go on, but be back in time for the fireworks!” Mirai calls out, but her son has already grabbed hold of Kiyoomi’s hand, running into the crowd. She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head at them.

They hold each other’s hands by their pinkies as they wander around the festival, ooh’ing at the intricately designed traditional face masks they saw and ahh’ing at the dance performances. Then they hear the unmistakable sound of a stomach growling in hunger. Its demands can be heard even over the festival music and idle chatter. Hinata giggles as he pokes Sakusa’s belly over the yukata. “I think we should get some food now, Kiyoomi. I think I saw an umeboshi stall around here…”

“I was actually thinking of getting a little bit of everything,” Sakusa says.

Hinata’s bottom lip juts out in a small pout as he looks at the yen in his small coin pouch “I don’t think I have enough money for that...”

“That’s okay, I do,” says Sakusa with a smile, holding up a small wallet that Hinata presumes has lots of yen. “ _Okaasan_ told me to enjoy myself tonight so we’ll buy some food for everyone. Except Motoya, because he said he was full.”

“Don’t be mean to Motoya-senpai, Kiyoomi,” giggles Hinata.

After they purchase their food, they return to their families and sit together on the blanket. They share the candied apples and strawberries with Natsu and Motoya’s siblings but keep the rest for themselves, except some taiyaki for Motoya who suddenly claims that he’s no longer full. Sakusa rolls his eyes at that.

“Ooh, that looks good, can I try some?” Hinata asks, scooting closer to Sakusa and resting his chin over his shoulder. He knows he’s pushing his luck, since Sakusa never shares his food for fear of spreading germs, but it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?

Sakusa pulls away from Hinata, leaving him to think he’s been rejected but finds himself surprised when Sakusa turns to fully face him, holding the three-coloured dango up in the air.

“Open up then.”

Hinata gasps happily and obeys as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth, making an “ahhhh” sound. When he feels the dumpling tap his lips, he takes a soft bite and chews slowly, savouring the sweetness. Sakusa gently bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to prevent another smile from making its way onto his face. It works, for a time, but nothing can stop the blush that grows on his cheeks as he watches Hinata eating happily.

“Oh my God…” Hinata hears Motoya mutter under his breath. 

After he swallows, Hinata finally opens his eyes and smiles softly at Sakusa. “Thank you, Kiyoomi! You’re the best!” He says, throwing his arms around Sakusa, pulling him into a hug. He feels Sakusa bury his face in the crook of his neck. Hinata can’t help but smile. If someone asked him where home is, home would be in Sakusa Kiyoomi’s arms.

When Hinata pulls away, he reaches for the umeboshi and some chopsticks. He takes one and holds it out to Sakusa. “Your turn! Say ‘ahh!’”

He stares at the pickled plum in between the chopsticks. He lightly licks his lips in eager anticipation before leaning forward, opening his mouth with a quieter but audible “ahh” as he allows himself to be fed by Hinata.

Mirai, Aika, and Ryuji fondly watch the sweet scene before them, smiling to themselves and shaking their heads endearingly. Motoya comes over and sits himself next to Mirai before he lays his head against the table. “Make them stop. Please. ”

“I think it’s cute,” Aika says, giggling lightly as her husband puts an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Reminds me of your father and I when we were children.”

“Ah yes, I remember, I actually asked my mother to teach me how to make _mizu manju_ just so I could feed it to you and say that I made it myself,” Ryuji says with a proud smile, earning him a loving kiss on his cheek from his wife. “It took me an entire summer to learn.”

“Oh my God, Mirai-san please make them stop,” Motoya pleads, burying his face in his hands as Mirai laughs.

“Moto-nii! I’ll feed you if you want!” Natsu says, offering him her a half-eaten candy apple.

Motoya removes his hands from his face and smiles at Natsu. “No, it’s okay, Nacchan. You can finish that while you sit up here to watch the fireworks with me so I’m not alone.” Natsu squeals happily as she runs - well, in her yukata, she waddles fast - over to Motoya who picks her up and places her down in his lap. 

“Oh! Oh! The fireworks are about to start, Kiyoomi!” Hinata exclaims excitedly. Together they sit side by side, holding each other by their pinkies. Sakusa leans a little further forward, as if it’ll get him closer to the fireworks that light up the night sky. His mouth forms a small ‘o’ of awe and his dark eyes glitter with wonder.

The summer festival lights are bright and the fireworks are pretty, but to Hinata, nothing is brighter or prettier than Sakusa Kiyoomi’s rare, gentle smile that reaches his eyes.

**august 2009  
** **sakusa, age thirteen  
** **hinata, age thirteen**

The day is finally here. The day they play against Shiratorizawa Junior High. The day they play against the infamous southpaw Ushiwaka in the quarter-finals. Sakusa can feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins once again, this excitement that only Shouyou used to incite in him. He can’t quite tell if it’s Ushiwaka himself, or if it’s volleyball that makes him excited.

“I need the bathroom!” Hinata cries out as he jumps off the bus, running towards the entrance in search of a bathroom. 

“Go after him and make sure he doesn’t get lost or accidentally picks a fight with another team,” Kamiya, Dosho’s new captain, tells Komori and Sakusa. As if he needs to tell them, Sakusa is already walking after Hinata and Komori isn’t far behind him.

“Shou-chan, Sakusa, wait up!” They do not wait up.

By the time Komori catches up to them, Sakusa is standing by the bathroom door, glaring hard at two boys walking out of the bathroom, one of them shaking his wet hands to dry them, droplets spraying everywhere, while the other wipes his hands on his shorts. Komori can feel his cousin’s disapproving aura flaring as he approaches. “Where’s Shou-chan?” He asks and Sakusa nods in the direction of the bathroom. “Oh I see.”

Minutes pass and when two minutes becomes five minutes and Komori’s worry increases. “Sakusa… is Shou-chan alone in the bathroom?”

“I don’t know, I didn’’t go in.”

“Well duh, you’re out here. But what if there’s someone in there and they pick a fight with him?” That gets Sakusa’s attention. It’s not that Hinata seeks out fights, it’s more of, he’s so charismatic that he’ll talk to anyone and accidentally say the wrong thing or the other person misinterprets his words. Sometimes, someone will trashtalk one of Hinata’s teammates or doubt his abilities and that’s a boundary that they can’t come back from.

Komori doesn’t need to say anything else. Sakusa walks into the bathroom without a second thought. 

The first thing he sees is a hand and a pocket handkerchief. The owner of the hand dries his wet hands with the hankie, and then folds it with the damp side in before tucking it into his pocket. Just _who_ is this person with impeccable hygiene and respect for proper bathroom decorum and can Sakusa be his friend?

“--height doesn’t determine everything in volleyball, Ushijima-san. No team is guaranteed a victory. Not even a powerhouse school like yours.” 

Is that venom in Hinata’s words? Wait, _Hinata_?! 

Sakusa looks back and forth between the two boys and comes to the quick conclusion that they’re in a disagreement and Sakusa has just walked right into the thick of it. He’ll have to ask Hinata for the details later, but this is a new side to Hinata that Sakusa has never seen before in their four years of friendship. Sure, he’s seen Hinata get frustrated before and even get mad but this… this is new. The stillness in Hinata’s expression is unnerving and his eyes are completely steeled and unblinking, as if he’s a predator, and Ushijima Wakatoshi is his prey and any sudden movements can set Hinata off.

“But it is a strong contributor to victory. With how small you are, I can’t see you effectively contributing to your team. If anything, you will only be a hindrance,” Ushijima says matter-of-factly, as if he’s reading a passage from a trivia book. 

Sakusa stills and he’s reminded of a familiar scenario when he was nine and Hinata was eight. 

Hinata? A hindrance just because he’s small? He’s never thought of Hinata as weak because of his height. If anything, he’s strong _because_ of his height. Lacking the extra inches drives Hinata to work the extra mile. People like himself and Ushijima are lucky because of the bodies they inhabit. No matter how hard or how little they practise, they will still have the advantage either way. For Hinata to stand on the court with them, toe to toe, means only one thing: he’s not talented, he’s _skilled_. Talent is something you’re born with, skill is the result of hours spent honing and building one’s self. Sure, a person can have both, but it’s those who are built purely of skill that are the terrifying ones, the true monsters. They’re friends with disappointment and defeat. All they know is how to overcome adversity.

“You know, I’m not very good with big, fancy words or metaphors. I’m only in seventh grade and I don’t go to an elite school like you, but I can promise you this,” Hinata steps towards Ushijima, eyes shiny with angry tears and his fists curling at his sides, not in preparation to fight, but to ground himself, “today we will beat you and prove that the strongest teams are the one that have the strength to grow through concrete.”

Sakusa tries not to smile too much. Four years ago, he would have intervened. Hell, he would intervene now if he could but the look on Hinata’s face gives even Sakusa reason to pause. Is that what he looked like on that day when he confronted Nakagawa Rin? No wonder the boy cowered in front of him.

Ushijima blinks down at Hinata, confused by the boy’s unbending defiance. With how short he is and how weak he looks, Ushijima wonders where this boy’s arrogance is founded upon. How can he stand there and say such things? It doesn’t make sense.

Sakusa clears his throat, finally deciding to intervene before things escalate further and finally catching the attention of the two. Upon seeing him, Hinata softens, his hardened face relaxes and he loosens the tension held in his shoulders. “Kamiya-san is waiting,” is all Sakusa says and Hinata nods.

“Right, sorry for making you wait.” Hinata walks towards Sakusa and as he reaches the door, he turns around, looking at Ushijima once more. “See you on the court, Ushijima-san.” Hinata bows low, then reaches for Sakusa’s hand, pinkies interlocking, before walking out of the bathroom, past Komori.

“Sakusa? What happened?” Komori asks, jogging to catch up to them.

“Shouyou and Ushijima Wakatoshi had a disagreement,” he answers simply. “I don’t know much, I walked right into the middle of it.”

Komori nearly trips over his feet. “Shou-chan?! You and Ushijima argued?!”

Hinata juts his chin out to the side and scoffs. “We have very different volleyball philosophies.”

“I thought you didn’t know big, fancy words,” Sakusa says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I heard the coaches saying something about it during warmups in our finals qualifiers.” Hinata shrugs. “Not that I understand it much. But talking to Ushijima-san… I get it now. We value different things.”

Hinata still has that intensity written on his face, but rather than anger, it’s laced with a fierce determination for victory. And yet, despite his almost-vicious facial expression and tense body, he holds Sakusa’s little finger gently. Sakusa feels a tiny flutter in his chest. What is that? Is he sick? No… it doesn’t feel like chest pain… What _is_ that? Sakusa shoves it down deep within himself where he can deal with it later.

During warmups, Hinata makes it a point to not look over at Shiratorizawa. Sakusa knows Hinata is many things: loud, warm, kind, funny, and loyal to a fault. But he would never have counted petulant as one of the adjectives. And whatever else they spoke about before Sakusa entered seems to be affecting Ushijima too. Or at least, that’s what it seems to be, since the ace in question keeps looking over Dosho’s side of the net with an unreadable expression but exuding the same intense aura as Hinata. 

Receiving Ushiwaka’s spikes is a _bitch_ , Komori thinks. The ball rotation is different from a southpaw and it doesn’t help that he puts so much force behind it, as if it’s not just his strength but his will that drives the ball forward. Ushiwaka is definitely fun to play against, in an odd, irritating kind of way. He makes a mental note to practice more serve-receives later on.

“Kamiya-senpai!” Hinata calls for the ball from his captain-setter. He rushes from the side and jumps, soaring high above the net and smacks the ball in the dead centre of the court. It’s clear to see that Hinata never stopped practicing last year, his hard work showing through the plays he makes. Though, Dosho already saw witness to this during the qualifiers. His speed and instinct throws Shiratorizawa for the first half of the first set, unable to catch up with him. And ultimately, that, combined with Sakusa’s serves and spikes, is what takes the first set.

“So that’s why he’s called the ‘Young Giant,’” says Komori, wiping his forehead with a towel before grabbing a water bottle.

“We have a giant of our own,” is all Sakusa says and Hinata grins at him.

Shiratorizawa takes the next set, which sucks. 

The third set commences and Komori digs up most of the serves. At one point, he does an emergency set to Hinata, something they’ve practiced often, and Hinata slams it down in the far corner of the court, just within boundaries.

22-22. 

But the next rotation takes Komori out and also puts Ushijima as the server. Damn it. They just need to bump his serve, they just need to get it up in the air. If the ball is in the air, then they have a strong fighting chance. Sakusa, Hinata, and Kamiya are in the back row, arms at the ready, their legs primed to leap in any direction if necessary. Ushijima throws the ball up in the air, jumps, and then smacks it directly between Hinata and Sakusa, as if he’s taunting both of them.

23-22. 

Another serve. This time, Kamiya manages to bump it but it’s off and sends it back over the net, only for one of the middle blockers to smack it back down on their side just before Komori can get a hand under it. Hinata growls in frustration but he’s never been more fired up and he’s never played better.

24-22.

Another serve, and Hinata gets it up in the air by sacrificing his cheek. Everyone in Dosho moves automatically, even Hinata who ignores the pain blooming in the side of his face. Kamiya sends a toss over to Sakusa who does a cross-shot, only for the opponent’s libero to dig it up. A toss is sent to the ace, which is fitting really, and everything seems to slow down. The sound of Ushijima’s hand hitting the ball rings in Hinata’s ears as he, Sakusa, Komori, and Kamiya dive for the ball. After that, the only thing he hears is the ball making contact with the court floor.

25-22.

“Well, I thought I had that…” Sakusa murmurs before he pushes himself up to his feet. Then he takes Hinata’s hand and pulls him up. His head hangs low and Sakusa sees water droplets on the floor. _Oh no, don’t cry Shouyou,_ he thinks, _I can handle anyone’s tears but yours._ Hinata sniffles and buries his face in Sakusa’s chest and the latter strokes his hair affectionately, despite the sweat. It’s okay if it’s Shouyou.

“Hinata Shouyou.” Sakusa looks up and sees Ushijima watching them from the other side of the net. No, not you, anyone but you. Sakusa wraps his arms around Hinata protectively but he feels his best friend shake his head against his chest before he slowly peels himself away to face Ushijima.

“Ushijima-san.”

“I have won.”

Hinata’s jaw clenches and Sakusa stares hard at Shiratorizawa’s ace. “Clearly.”

“You are not strong,” he says, and Sakusa prepares himself to intervene, maybe even throw a right hook at Ushijima’s sharp jaw, but he continues, “ _but_ you are not weak either. You have much more to learn.”

Hinata blinks, not expecting that from Ushiwaka. “H-Huh?”

“You are only in the seventh grade, yes?” Hinata nods. “And yet you managed to make contact with my serve.”

“Yeah, with my face,” Hinata mutters to himself but Ushijima either doesn’t hear him or ignores what he says.

“You are not weak. But you are not yet strong either. I will defeat you again when we stand on the same court.” Then he turns to Sakusa. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, you are a formidable player. Choose your high school well so your talents may properly shine.” Then he finally turns and walks away. 

“What a strange person,” Komori says, having watched the entire interaction. He then throws his arms around Hinata and Sakusa and walks them back to their benches.

Sakusa thought he would be more affected by this loss, but last year’s loss against Ushimi’s Bokuto Koutarou stung more than this. But he feels nothing. Well, not nothing. He’s now met someone who puts a nastier spin on a ball than he can so he feels competition, but other that, nothing else. Truthfully, he’s disappointed. All this talk about the Young Giant from the East and yet… Perhaps, in another universe, he might feel differently. 

As it stands, the only person who can light a fire in his heart and soul is Hinata Shouyou. He wonders if he feels the same way. 

Wait… there it is again, the same tiny flutter in his chest he felt before the game… Does he only get this when he thinks about Hinata? 

No, it can’t be. 

Sakusa tries to think of Kamiya, his skilled captain-setter who cares for his underclassmen. Kamiya, who, last year, had a fierce determination to beat Shiratorizawa this year and couldn’t, and yet despite the loss, he still smiles. No… Kamiya inspires nothing other than respect from Sakusa. 

But Hinata… Ah! There it is again, that tiny little flutter in his chest. That settles it, Sakusa is going to ask his mother to check on him when he gets home. Who better than a paediatrician to check on these strange symptoms?

“You played very well today, Hinata-kun.”

“Thank you, Akaashi-san!” Sakusa turns and sees Hinata bouncing up and down animatedly in front of a boy - likely the same age as Sakusa and Komori - wearing casual clothes. Akaashi… why does that name sound familiar? Sakusa is so wrapped up in his own mind that he doesn’t realise that Hinata’s introducing Akaashi to them. “These are my best friends! And this is Akaashi-san! He saved me last year when he showed me where the bathroom is.”

Ohhh, so this is the other friend that Hinata made last year. As it turns out, Mori Middle School lost their third round game yesterday but Akaashi made the effort to come and watch Hinata in action. Okay, Sakusa can accept this. He has a positive opinion on people when they support Hinata and return the same amount of friendship that Hinata gives to them. 

Later on, Sakusa and Hinata sit in one of the frontmost seats in the bus, with Kamiya and Komori sitting behind them. Hinata reaches out for Sakusa’s hand and holds it fully, interlocking all of their fingers together and he leans against his arm, resting his head in the crook of his shoulder. “I’ll get stronger, I promise,” Hinata murmurs as his eyes flutter shut, exhaustion catching up to him.

“I’ll get stronger too,” Sakusa mumbles, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability as he rests his cheek against Hinata’s head.

When they arrive, Kamiya leaves the undesirable task of waking Sakusa and Hinata up to Komori, much to his displeasure.

🏐

“Check it again.”

“Kiyoomi, I’ve checked your temperature five times now. You don’t have a fever or a cold.”

“Well, try the stethoscope again.”

“There’s nothing unusual about your breathing.”

“So why do I have this flutter in my chest when I look at Shouyou?”

Sakusa’s mother, Sayuri, looks at him, almost pityingly. She forgot what love looks like when the people involved are absolutely clueless. Then again, she supposes she can’t blame her son. How is he supposed to know what love is when she and her husband rarely display it because they don’t feel it anymore? With both of them so busy with their careers to provide for their family, they forgot to _be_ a family. 

Has she even felt that flutter before? The same flutter that her son describes? Maybe once, when she and Ryota were young, before life overwhelmed their love. Kiyoomi looks up at her with his dark brown, almost black, eyes. Her eyes. She can see her own soul reflect in his eyes as he patiently waits for an answer. She thinks back to the photograph she took of Hinata and Kiyoomi when they were younger. _Of course._ It can’t be anything else. 

“I think it’s love.”

“Love?”

“Yes.”

“Like the love Komori’s parents have?”

Sayuri tries not to physically flinch. She should be hurt that her son’s first thought of love is her brother and her sister in-law and not his own parents. Yet she isn’t hurt, just empty. 

“Perhaps.”

“I thought only boys and girls can love each other? Not boys and boys?”

“Love isn’t fixed to just boys and girls, so yes, a boy can love a boy. Just as a girl can love a girl.”

Kiyoomi allows that new information to settle in his brain. “I love Shouyou? Is that your diagnosis?”

“It’s not something I can diagnose you for, Kiyoomi. There’s no science to love.” _If there was, I would have memorised every equation._ “What does your heart tell you?”

Kiyoomi spends the rest of the evening with his mother’s stethoscope to his chest, trying to decipher the meaning of each heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kouushu) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/omihina)
> 
> im going to SCREAM thank u so much to [ocha](https://twitter.com/choiza04) for the blanket fort art and [caro](https://twitter.com/carohaze) for the festival art !!!! yall should check out their artwork !!!!!! im going to eat my FIST i love them so much, check out my twt if u want to see the full resolution art!!


	2. Chapter 2

#  **rooting:**

###  **sometimes you have to choose between planting roots or growing wings**

**december 2011  
** **sakusa, age fifteen  
** **hinata, age fifteen**

“Let’s turn around and go home, it’s not too late, Motoya,” Sakusa says, hoping to dissuade his cousin from proceeding further. His voice is a little muffled from the mask he wears so perhaps Komori can’t quite hear him. He pulls his mask down a little. “I said it’s not too late, we can turn around and go home, Motoya,” he repeats. 

Komori laughs and playfully slaps Sakusa’s back. “I heard you the first time, Kiyo-chan, and no, we’re not turning back. Shou-chan would be disappointed that we wasted this opportunity and you wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?”

Sakusa scowls and puts his mask back up. He hates that Komori knows his weakness. “No…”

“And didn’t you tell him that day we lost to Shiratorizawa that you would get stronger? On the bus ride home?”

“How did you hear that?”

“I was sitting right behind you, you idiot,” laughs Komori, which only results in Sakusa’s frown deepening behind his mask. 

They walk towards Ajinomoto National Training Centre, and admittedly, they feel slightly ridiculous wearing Itachiyama’s uniform on the way to the training camp. Who in the administration does Sakusa have to talk to in order to change the volleyball uniform colours from neon yellow and green to something that doesn’t cause a headache from merely looking at it? Lilac would be nice, he thinks. Maybe he can have it changed by the time Shouyou comes to Itachiyama so he doesn’t have to look like a three-in-one highlighter. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Sakusa! Komori!” Oh no. Sakusa knows that iconic greeting all too well. Bokuto Koutarou, formerly of Ushimi Middle School, and now of Fukurodani Academy. “I figured you two would be here. I’d be surprised if you weren’t after that performance in the qualifier during the finals. That emergency set that you did for Sakusa that ended up winning the game was genius, Komori! Even though we lost.” Bokuto praises. 

Komori smiles and to the world, he appears to be modest, but Sakusa knows better, he knows that Motoya enjoys the compliments as much as Shouyou does. 

“Well, well, who do we have here?” That’s Kansai-ben, Sakusa identifies. “Komori Motoya, Bokuto Koutarou, and Sakusa Kiyoomi. Now this training camp’s interestin’ already.”

The three of them turn around to find a boy with a dark brown undercut, wearing a dark red jacket and white sweatpants, both having a black stripe running down the arms and the outseam of the legs. He wears a lazy smirk on his face and Sakusa already wants to smack it off his face. With a volleyball preferably so it just looks like an unfortunate accident. 

“Oh I’ve heard about you. You’re Miya Atsumu, aren’t you?” Komori asks.

“Seems like my reputation precedes me,” Atsumu says, grinning at them. 

“Miya Atsumu? The setter?” Bokuto’s face lights up. “Oh you’ve got to give me some tosses!”

“Sure thing, Bokkun.”

Bokuto tilts his head, almost like an owl. Really, him and Hinata are birds of the same feather. “Bokkun? Oh! Can I call you Tsum-Tsum?”

Atsumu grins. “If ya want.”

After that brief introduction, the four of them walk into the training centre, only to also walk into the middle of what seems to be a showdown between two people. Sakusa instantly recognises Ushijima Wakatoshi as one of the two. He looks taller and stronger but that stoic expression he wears is still the same from two years ago. The other boy is a couple of inches shorter and has a more lithe build, but holds himself well against the southpaw wing spiker.

“Just because we’re at this training camp doesn’t mean we’re teammates, Ushiwaka. You won’t get a single toss from me.”

“Oikawa, you are being petulant.”

“Wow, really? I hadn’t noticed!” The boy, Oikawa, exclaims sarcastically. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the exchange. They’re very well acquainted and with some deep history between them. Clearly. 

Eh, whatever, it’s not Sakusa’s place. He’s here to play volleyball and get stronger, not hold hands and make friends. He has enough friends… Okay, he has three friends and one of them is his cousin and the other is Itachiyama’s vice-captain (soon to be captain, according to Komori, the gossip he is) but that still counts.

During the official introductions, only one other player stands out to Sakusa from the ones he’s already met or seen: Hoshiumi Kourai from Nagano. If Bokuto reminds Sakusa of Hinata’s bubbly, outgoing personality, then Hoshiumi reminds him of Hinata’s intense and determined mindset towards volleyball. He’s the shortest player in the youth camp but his position isn’t libero. Sakusa thinks that Hinata and him will get along well, should they ever meet one day.

After the first day of three-on-threes, Sakusa and Komori sit together in the cafeteria, quietly conversing together as they eat their dinner. Komori takes his phone out and throws his arm around Sakusa’s shoulder, putting his hand up in a peace sign and grinning cheesily at the screen before taking a selfie. “Aww, you look cute. In a grumpy kind of way. I’m sending that to Shou-chan.”

“You will do nothing of the sort, Motoya,” Sakusa glares at his cousin. He reaches out for the phone but Komori holds it out of arm’s length.

“Too late, already sent!”

“I don’t understand why people think I’m the asshole and you’re the angel when in reality, you’re such a little shit,” Sakusa grumbles.

“Well that ain’t a very nice thing to say, Omi-kun.” Sakusa feels his mood plummet further when Miya Atsumu sits across him and Komori. He would rather Bokuto sit with them because at least Bokuto is actually nice and already has the Hinata Shouyou™ seal of approval.

“He’s my cousin, I can call him whatever I like. And don’t _ever_ call me that again if you know what’s good for you, Miya.”

“Whatever ya say, Omi-kun,” Atsumu drawls, grinning at him before he takes a bite into his tuna rice ball.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Sakusa says, grimacing as he stands up and puts his mask back on his face. “I’m going to have a bath before anyone else contaminates the water.”

“See you later, Kiyo-chan.” Komori would go after Sakusa to make sure he’s not too riled up by Atsumu, but he’s known his cousin long enough to know when he needs space and when he needs someone to vent to. This time, it’s not the latter. Komori turns his attention on the setter in front of him. “You like being an asshole, don’t you?” He asks.

“It’s more of, I could care less about being hated by scrubs.”

“Scrubs?”

“Yeah, ya know, trash.”

“Would you consider Sakusa a scrub?” Komori asks, not to pick a fight, but because he’s genuinely curious.

Atsumu takes another bite of his rice ball. “Nah, he ain’t a scrub, he’s just fun to mess with. Seems like he’ll be fun to set for too. Didn’t get the chance to play with him or against him today but I’m looking forward to seeing that nasty spin he puts on the ball.”

“And what about me?”

“You? Nah. I saw that clip of your emergency set in the Tokyo qualifiers. It was fuckin’ beautiful considering how low ya had to go to get yer hands under it,” Atsumu praises and something tells Komori that Atsumu seldom gives compliments freely. “The libero on my team could learn a thing or two from ya. Even Suna said so himself.”

“Suna?”

“Suna Rintarou, a middle blocker from my team. You’d like him. Probably get along like a house on fire with how much ya remind me of him.”

“What, is he devilishly charming? Clever? Handsome?”

“He’s an ass.”

Komori laughs at that. “Sounds like my type.”

The following day, at breakfast, Sakusa and Komori are sitting together again, quietly conversing again, when they’re interrupted, _again._ Maybe Sakusa should stop sitting with Komori, maybe it’s his fault that people are coming to their table uninvited. It’s that deceptively bubbly personality that’s doing it, Sakusa thinks. 

But in fact, it’s actually Sakusa that’s drawing people to him. Maybe Hinata’s magnetism is rubbing off on him...

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

“Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

“May I sit?”

Sakusa nods but only because Ushijima has the decency and manners to ask for permission to join their table, unlike a certain someone whose name rhymes with Piya Flatsumu who invites himself. God, Sakusa hopes he doesn’t _ever_ play with him in the future. No matter how good his sets are.

Next to him, Komori doesn’t say much, just eats his breakfast quietly but Sakusa knows that though his eyes are averted, his ears are picking up every word of the imminent conversation between himself and Ushijima.

“I am pleased that you and Komori have chosen Itachiyama Academy. It is a strong school with strong players that will help you both grow to your full potential.” Ushijima drinks his orange juice and then dabs - _dabs_ \- his mouth with a napkin, instead of wiping it like an imbecile. If he and Shouyou weren’t rivals, Sakusa is sure that he and Ushijima would already be friends. “And if I am correct, I will be seeing you at the Spring Nationals, just as I did at the Interhigh?”

From across the room, Oikawa Tooru overhears and scoffs, turning his head pettily as he and Atsumu walk to a table where Hoshiumi already sits to eat breakfast together.

“That is correct,” Sakusa replies.

“I look forward to it.”

“Is that all?”

“No.” Ushijima finishes the rest of his juice and dabs a napkin around his mouth again. “I am also here to ask after Hinata Shouyou’s condition. Is he stronger?”

“Yes.”

“And will he be joining Itachiyama in April?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I look forward to facing him again. I will leave you to your meal now.” The southpaw spiker pushes his chair out and starts to rise from his seat when Sakusa speaks up.

“Ushijima-san, before you go, may I ask what grudge you hold against Shouyou?” Komori stills next to Sakusa and wonders where he’s hoping to go with that question and what he expects from Ushijima. 

Ushijima contemplates the question for a moment before he answers. “I do not hold any grudge towards him. I initially disliked his arrogance, believing it was unfounded, but his performance at that match, as well as meeting similar people at this camp,” he looks towards the table where Hoshiumi sits with Atsumu and Oikawa, “proves to me that my philosophy might need reevaluating. Hinata Shouyou is a worthy rival.” He pauses for a moment and looks at Sakusa directly in the eyes. “And so are you.”

**february 2012**

Sakusa knocks his knuckles against the door. 

“Shouyou?”

He’s greeted with silence. He knocks again.

“Come in,” Hinata answers from the other side.

Sakusa slides the door open, allows himself in, then slides the door closed. Hinata’s room is bathed in early afternoon sunlight. A common misconception people have about Hinata is that he is a messy person. People couldn’t be more wrong. No clothes hang over the backs of chairs or are left strewn on the floor and all his school books are neatly organised on his desk. There’s a place for everything and everything is in its place. Sakusa couldn’t be prouder. 

But there’s something wrong. Sakusa could feel it from the moment he entered the room. The air feels heavier on this side of the door. It feels tense and uncomfortable. For a moment, Sakusa thinks he’s overthinking it but when he sees his best friend sitting on the side of his bed, staring blankly at the two letters he holds in his hands, his feelings of dread are confirmed. Hinata’s clementine hair seems dull, even with the sunlight filtering into the room, and his round cheeks appear pale. 

Sakusa feels something cold grow inside him.

“Shouyou, are you okay?” He asks, speaking in a gentle tone that he only reserves for Hinata. He sits at his side and it's then that he sees how Hinata’s hands shake. Sakusa stills Hinata’s hand by holding them with his own. “You can tell me anything, you know that,” he says quietly, rubbing his thumbs affectionately against Hinata’s skin. 

Hinata nods. “I know, I know… I just- I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“I could never be disappointed in you, Shouyou. You _know_ that.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

Sakusa feels a sharp ache in his heart. How could Hinata think he could hate him? Moreover, what has Hinata done that he thinks Sakusa could hate him for it? Does he want to know? Of course he does. Sakusa values honesty, he would always choose the brutal truth rather than a comfortable lie. And he knows Hinata is the same.

“Nothing you do could ever make me hate you.”

Hinata nods again and takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. Sakusa gently squeezes his hand in reassurance, silently communicating: _I’m here, I will always be here._

“I’m not going to go to Itachiyama.”

Sakusa stops breathing.

What? That can’t be right. He must have misheard him. Did Itachiyama not extend a recruitment offer to him? And if so, how could Itachiyama _not_ recruit Hinata? What reason could they possibly have for turning a player like Hinata away? Sakusa and Komori watched the tryouts for Itachiyama. Even from an objective perspective, it was clear to see that Hinata is a skilled player. With a setter like Iizuna, who is one of the few setters around to make true use of Hinata’s skills, he can truly shine and become the future ace of Itachiyama after Sakusa. So _why_?

“Kiyoomi?” Hinata’s voice is so quiet and small and he realises that he has yet to say anything. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not your fault,” Sakusa repeats. He drops Hinata’s hands and stands up. “I’m going to talk to my captain and to the coaches and set this right.” 

Yes that’s it, he’ll bargain with them. Make them see reason. Recruit Hinata Shouyou or else he will drop out of the volleyball club. Recruit Hinata Shouyou or else, good luck trying to win next year’s Interhigh and Spring Nationals without him.

“Kiyoomi, wait!” Hinata reaches out for Sakusa’s hand and pulls him back down on the bed. “You misunderstand… I got an offer from Itachiyama.” He takes one of the letters from his side and passes it to Sakusa to unfold and read. 

Each second Sakusa spends reading the letter, the more confused he becomes. 

“Let me get this right,” says Sakusa, his tone growing colder, “you received an offer from Itachiyama, but you’re not going to accept?”

Hinata nods solemnly.

“May I ask why?”

“If I follow you and Motoya-san to Itachiyama, I will never grow as a player,” Hinata explains. “Everyone will think of me as yours and Motoya-san’s student. Everything I know about volleyball, I learned from the both of you. My skills aren’t my own, not really. I want my own weapons to fight with. I want to stand on my own two feet. I want to earn my place on the orange court through my own work and skills.”

“You can earn it at Itachiyama. You’ll show everyone that you’re your own person. That your skills are your own,” Sakusa reasons, almost desperately. His forehead creases in confusion because for the first time since he met Hinata, he can’t understand him. “Maybe Wakatoshi-kun was right, you are arrogant. But he left out one thing: you are also selfish.”

Hinata bristles at that. “I’m not arrogant or selfish, Kiyoomi!” He says indignantly, standing up to gain some height against him. 

“Yes you are,” Sakusa spits out as he stands, using his height to loom over Hinata. His eyes are suddenly steely and his voice grows colder. “You were offered a place at a powerhouse school, one of the strongest in the nation, and you rejected it because you think you can grow stronger somewhere else. What is that if not arrogance? Thinking only about yourself and not considering how your actions would affect others around you, what is that if not selfishness?”

Hinata narrows his eyes up at Sakusa. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Ushijima-san.”

“So what if I am?”

Hinata doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he turns away, his voice low. “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it. You’ve always been lucky. You’ve never been a challenger because you’ve never had to fight for the right to compete.”

“You are the last person I expected to hear self-pity from.”

“I am not pitying myself.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Well I’m not, okay?” Hinata sits back down, sinking into the bed, all fight gone from him. “I only wanted to go to Itachiyama because you were there,” he confesses, then blushes and turns his head away. “A-And Motoya-senpai, of course. I don’t care where I go, as long as I can play volleyball, you know that. Then I thought about it some more and I realised that I don’t want to stand behind you, I want to earn the right to stand at your side.”

Sakusa softens and sits back down on the bed. “So why won’t you accept Itachiyama’s offer? We can still play together.” _We can still be together,_ is what remains unspoken.

Hinata shakes his head as he turns back to face him. “I’m not strong enough to stand at your side. Not yet. I want to stand with you as an equal and I can’t do that if I’m playing on the same side as you.”

God, why is Hinata like this? So stubborn and hardheaded. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sakusa weren’t so stubborn and hardheaded himself. “But what if you can?”

“We both know I can’t.”

Silence falls on them like a weight after that. Neither one willing to back down. Sakusa lets out a frustrated grunt as he turns around, arms folded over his chest as his back faces Hinata. If this argument was with anyone else _,_ Sakusa would have walked out. But it isn’t anyone else, it’s _Hinata._ His Hinata. And something that Sakusa is learning is that there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him.

Minutes pass before he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. Hinata’s hand drops and he hugs Sakusa from behind with arms wrapping around his waist and his chin resting in the dip of his collarbone, cheeks touching. “Do you really think I’m arrogant and selfish?” Hinata asks quietly.

“No,” Sakusa answers immediately. “I was just frustrated. Upset. Angry. I didn’t understand your reasons.” He pauses. “And to be honest, I still don’t understand them but I don’t have to. I just have to accept it.”

“Thank you, Kiyoomi.”

The tense air around them begins to grow lighter and the weight around Hinata’s heart loosens. He grabs the other letter and places it in Sakusa’s hands before he puts his arms back where they were. “I got a recruitment offer from a different school,” Hinata murmurs. “Fukurodani Academy. They’re challengers like me. I’ve accepted them.”

Sakusa closes his eyes and sinks into Hinata’s arms, lightly tossing the letter to the side. “We won’t be just playing against each other, we’ll be rivals, you know that, right?”

Hinata turns Sakusa around to face him, wearing a warm smile. “I can’t think of a better way to get stronger than to play against one of the best spikers in the nation who also happens to be my favourite person.”

Favourite _person._ Not a player, but Hinata’s favourite _person._

If Sakusa wasn’t so upset and hurt about Hinata not coming to Itachiyama, he would have taken his phone out and called Komori just to brag that he’s Hinata’s favourite, not him. But even his upset is assuaged by Hinata’s smile and sincere words. His shoulders relax.

“Have you told Motoya?”

Hinata nods. “Yeah, this morning. He was upset too but he took the news easier than you did. He understood my reasons. Also said that I got the better deal in terms of volleyball uniforms.”

Sakusa breathes through his nose sharply in light laughter, a small smile curving his lips. “Well, he’s not wrong. The only upside to the uniforms is that you can’t lose us in a crowd. The downside is everything else.” That earns a laugh from Hinata. He stands up and sits at his desk.

“You should go, I have homework to do.”

“You can do that later. Let’s go downstairs and eat some ice cream.”

Hinata gasps in fake shock and he narrows his eyes skeptically at Sakusa. And to top it off, he jumps backwards on the bed, putting a safe distance between himself and the older boy. “The Kiyoomi I know would never let me skip on doing my homework! Who are you and what have you done to Sakusa Kiyoomi?” He demands.

“You know what, you’re right. You stay here and do your homework while I go downstairs and eat all the ice cream.”

“Kiyoomi!” Hinata drags out the last syllable with a whine. “At least help me! You’re better at Japanese Literature than I am!”

Sakusa rolls his eyes fondly at him as he pushes himself off the bed. He grabs a chair and pulls it up next to Hinata. “If you were anyone else, I would have walked out.”

Hinata looks at him with a bright grin, putting sunshine in Sakusa’s belly. “Good thing I’m not anyone else.”

 _Thank the Gods for that,_ Sakusa thinks, smiling warmly to himself. 

**late april 2012  
** **sakusa, age sixteen  
** **hinata, age fifteen**

Anyone with a pair of functioning eyes can see that Hinata Shouyou has quickly become the favourite of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club, but not for Konoha, nope, he will not allow himself to be sucked into the vortex of sunshine that everyone has fallen into. 

And it’s not that Konoha doesn’t like Hinata because he does, but not in the same capacity as everyone else and he really doesn’t get why everyone trips over themselves for Hinata.

Bokuto proudly claims Hinata as his number one disciple and at first Konoha thinks that he’ll be insufferable to deal with, since he likes to show off and since Hinata is so open with his praises and admiration. And while that is true and that is what happens, Bokuto seems to work harder and his mood swings aren’t as frequent as they used to be. When Konoha asked him about it, Bokuto puffed out his chest and said, “I don’t want to disappoint my number one disciple! I gotta show him what a top ace is all about!” That earned Bokuto a humbling kick up the backside and a (not so) gentle reminder that he’s only in the top five, not top three of the nation (yet). 

Akaashi being fond of Hinata comes as no surprise. After all, he’s the same person who voluntarily helps with Bokuto’s endless spiking practices and so of course he’ll indulge Hinata too. Even ruffles his hair. Konoha thinks that Akaashi must have been a saint in a past life since he has the patience and tolerance of one. But really, Akaashi only looks normal, underneath he’s just as strange as Bokuto and Hinata. He later learns that the two met four years ago during one of the middle school tournaments and kept in contact since.

Yukie and Kaori take an instant liking to Hinata, thinking of him like a little brother - or puppy, for all Konoha guesses with how often they ruffle his hair. He always offers to help them and Kaori uses that to scold the other boys: “You could all learn some manners from Hinata-kun!” Hinata and Yukie share the same enthusiasm for food but more so, Hinata goes to Yukie for nutritional advice.

For Komi, it was the day Hinata asked him about his plans for the future during cool downs after practice. _I want to be an actor. It probably sounds stupid since it’s a really competitive field_ , Komi said but Hinata looked at him with a megawatt smile and replied, _But if anyone can do it, you can, Komi-senpai_! The honorific might have had some part to play in Komi’s increased liking towards Hinata.

Sarukui was last year’s pinch server and isn’t expected to be a part of this year’s prospective starting lineup but Hinata wins him over just the same. It starts the day he asks him to help with his jump serves, saying how his serves are like “WAH BAM” or whatever that means. Konoha thinks that’s the end of that, but Hinata, being composed of pure sunshine and everything good, brings daikon radishes for Sarukui from his mother’s home garden, saying it’s just a token of his gratitude. From that day, Konoha knows Sarukui is a goner. 

Konoha thinks that Hinata will be intimidated by Washio, since the tall, stalwart middle blocker has the unfortunate habit of unintentionally scaring anyone younger (and shorter) than him - once, he met Konoha’s younger cousin and she started to cry upon meeting him. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. Hinata seems to like the slow and peaceful pace that Washio’s company offers and Konoha will sometimes find them sitting together quietly as they discuss the latest chapter of a manga they both read.

 _So maybe there’s something wrong with_ _me_ , Konoha thinks to himself. 

One day, during practice after school, Konoha is hit with the sudden revelation that Hinata is a carbon copy of Bokuto, but shorter and with orange hair. They’re both volleyball idiots, but if one looks in a certain angle, their stupidity can pass off as genius and that pisses him off. 

“Nice kill, Hinata-kun,” Akaashi praises, gently ruffling his kouhai’s clementine hair, earning him a toothy grin from the boy. Hinata returns the compliment, enthusing about how nice Akaashi’s tosses are. That gets Bokuto’s attention who heartily agrees and the two overactive wing spikers spend the next two minutes praising him, leaving Akaashi pink in the cheeks but with a small smile on his face.

Hinata’s skill level is higher than the average first year and Konoha predicts that he’ll make this year’s starting lineup - that is, if he beats the freakishly tall first year Onaga Wataru. There’s no denying Hinata’s athleticism and skill, his drive and determination, but it’s all of those things combined that make Konoha wonder why he didn’t accept Itachiyama. If Hinata is skilled enough to be offered a place in Itachiyama in place of other players who are taller, why did he decline?

He’s not complaining though. After having scouted him during last year’s Kanto Middle School Tournament along with Bokuto and Akaashi, Konoha understands why Fukurodani offered Hinata a place. He reflects Fukurodani’s core. _Give each play your all._ Hinata does give his all, whether it be in a practice game or in an official match. It’s that mentality and drive that earned him a place in Fukurodani and Konoha respects that.

“Say, Shou-kun,” Sarukui begins, wiping his forehead with a towel, “from the team, who do you learn the most from?” 

Save Konoha, the team stills, waiting with bated breath for Hinata’s answer, though they try to act nonchalant about it. Konoha narrows his eyes at Sarukui, who simply grins knowingly. He wonders what his friend hopes to achieve, because _of course_ the answer is going to be Bokuto since Hinata isn’t dumb enough to say anyone else for worry of putting him in a low mood. Hinata has stars in his eyes every time Bokuto does something cool or he praises him. He wants to be the ace after him after all.

Hinata considers the question for a moment, lowering his head and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I learn different things from everyone.” Then he lifts his head and drops his hand back to his side. “Receiving stances from Komi-senpai, serving from you, timing and blocks from Washio-san, strategy from Akaashi-san, and how to be an ace from Bokuto-san,” Hinata replies and really, they shouldn’t be surprised by the diplomatic nature of his answer - everyone was mentioned. 

Well, everyone but Konoha. But he expects that since he’s not as close to the kid as everyone else is.

“But I learn the most from Konoha-senpai,” Hinata adds on, causing the upperclassman in mention to freeze and look wide-eyed at the orange-haired boy. “I wanna be like Konoha-senpai.” 

Sarukui and Komi grin while Washio and Akaashi wear a small, soft smile on their face. Bokuto struggles between being slightly jealous that his number one disciple admires another and also being supportive of his friends. The latter seems to win out when Akaashi quietly reminds him that Hinata spends most of his time with the two of them anyway so it doesn’t matter. Konoha can’t help but feel moved by his answer, a warmth blossoming in his chest. Is this what it means to feel the sunshine in your heart?

“Oh? You want to be a Jack of All Trades, Master of None?” Komi teases, earning him a sour look from Konoha.

“No.” An intense stillness overwhelms Hinata’s face, making even the upperclassmen flinch. Hinata smiles and where it usually inspires one to smile back, this smile undoes one’s nerves. It’s a smile that should be reserved for the court, Konoha thinks. “I want to be a Jack of All Trades, Master of _All._ ”

 _We have another monster,_ is the collective thought that goes through the minds of the Fukurodani team. Another greedy monster who wants to consume everything in its path. They already have a monster for an ace and captain. Are Fukurodani so lucky to have another? Maybe they can win the Spring Nationals if they have two monsters.

Fuck, okay, Konoha is starting to understand why Hinata is everyone’s favourite.

“Hinata-kun,” Konoha swings an arm around Hinata’s shoulders, pulling to the side, “come see me after practice. I’ll treat you to some meat buns.”

“Huh?!”

“You’re my favourite now.”

“Oi!” Bokuto separates the two, one hand shoving Konoha to the side and the other acting as a wall to shield Hinata from the thief. “He’s my number one disciple, Konoha! Go get your own!” Bokuto turns to Hinata, both hands firmly on the first year’s shoulders. “I’ll buy you more meat buns than Konoha does _and_ I’ll also buy you popsicles.”

That practice ends with Akaashi ending Bokuto and Konoha’s childish fight while Komi and Sarukui laugh and Washio takes Hinata away.

🏐

“Whoa! Nice receive, Onaga-kun! Sarukui-san’s serves are hard to dig up!” Hinata’s smile glows on his face and Onaga can’t help but respond with one of his own. 

When it became clear that Hinata is the unparalleled favourite of the upperclassmen, Onaga expected to feel an envious pit grow deep in his stomach. Even more so when he discovered from another teammate that Hinata didn’t even try out for the team or sit the entrance exam for Fukurodani Academy. No, he was _offered_ a place on the team. And to top it off, Hinata received an offer from Itachiyama Academy and _rejected them._ The very thought makes Onaga’s blood boil.

Knowing all of this, he had high expectations from the short boy. Hinata Shouyou had to be some sort of genius if he was offered a place from not just one, but _two_ powerhouse schools. As luck would have it, Hinata is a natural athlete and a skilled player. But his natural abilities aren’t what Onaga admires about Hinata. It’s his intense work ethic and the determination to beat the odds. He will never admit it to anyone else, but Onaga can quietly admit to himself that one of the main reasons he’s good at volleyball is because he’s freakishly tall. He can work as hard or as little as he wants, but no matter what, he has an advantage because of his height. Whereas Hinata is good at volleyball because he had no choice but to be good at it. 

Onaga can’t help but be infected by his friend’s loud determination, inspiring him to work harder, run faster, jump higher, all to keep up with Hinata. Alright, Onaga can deal with Hinata being a volleyball idiot but surely there must be something wrong with him. Something… Anything… Please. It would be easier to dislike him if he had an uncompromisable trait in his personality, such as unfounded arrogance or provoking others without cause but Hinata has been nothing but kind and supportive. All Onaga feels for him is fondness and friendship.

Plus, Hinata’s endless compliments are really good for his self-esteem and confidence.

When practice ends, Onaga and Hinata collect the stray volleyballs together, chatting animatedly about an anticipated class trip in the summer. Then they join the rest of the team on the floor, legs crossed, ready to listen intently to Coach Yamiji who stands in front of them, flanked by the managers and Bokuto and Akaashi. 

“The performances in Golden Week will determine who ends up on the starting lineup for the Interhighs,” Coach Yamiji announces. “In light of this, we will change the lineup every game we have.”

Everyone murmurs to each other and Onaga can’t blame them. Since last year’s third years stayed on for the Spring Nationals, the new team hasn’t been officially formed yet. He wonders if that means even Bokuto and Akaashi’s positions can be contested, even though they’re the ace-captain and vice-captain of the team? 

Coach Yamiji continues on. “Don’t misunderstand, this isn’t an opportunity for you to trample on your teammates, but to measure how much you have grown and developed, to see how well you work in different lineups and what strategies you’ll undertake in those lineups against other powerhouse schools.”

From the team’s hushed whispers, Onaga knows that Yamiji’s strategy to improve team morale is working. The prospective players for the lineup, such as Konoha and Washio, are now fuelled with the desire to protect the position that had been waiting for them. The other upperclassmen such as Sarukui have fire in their eyes, eager to prove that they are every bit as good as the prospective starters, if not better. Even first years such as himself and Hinata are given the hope of being a starter.

While this seems a promising opportunity for everyone to prove themselves, Onaga Wataru is not so easily convinced. He’s not in Class 4 for nothing.

Thinking about this logically, there’s no way that Bokuto and Akaashi will lose their positions in the starting lineup. How bad would it look for the team if their _ace_ and _captain_ isn’t in the starting lineup? And not only does Akaashi know how to deal with Bokuto’s mood swings, but he’s a damn good setter. Konoha is an obvious choice as his versatility will allow him to play in any position. Washio’s blocking is amongst the best in the nation, despite getting little recognition for it, and though nothing stands out too much about Komi’s skills, his speed and consistency makes him a valuable libero for the team. 

So in reality, there’s only two positions available for the starting lineup: middle blocker and wing spiker.

Onaga looks to his left and feels a shudder travel down his spine when he sees the eerily calm expression on his friend’s face. Hinata turns to Onaga, head tilted slightly. “I’m going to make it on the lineup.”

Onaga doesn’t doubt him, but he quietly resolves to stand right next to Hinata when he does.

**golden week 2012**

Though Hinata attends a different school to Sakusa and Komori, they still see each other every weekday. Every morning after Hinata finishes his breakfast, he goes next door, is allowed in by Aika-san, and waits patiently for Komori to finish getting ready for school. Then the two of them walk to the train station - or if it’s raining, Ryuji-san drives them to the train station before he goes to work - where they meet Sakusa who’s always trying to find a waiting spot furthest away from the crowds.

On the train, they sit or stand together, depending on how busy the train is, but Hinata and Komori always make sure they are the nearest to Sakusa, like a protective bubble. Hinata and Komori chat amicably for the majority of the thirty minute commute, with Sakusa adding a few of his own comments here and there whenever his interest is piqued. Hinata isn’t great at keeping up with high school gossip and frankly, he doesn’t care too much about who is dating who and all of that. But with the way Komori regales him and Sakusa with colourful accounts of gossip, Hinata can’t help but be somewhat invested in it, like a car crash he can’t look away from. 

Hinata is always the first to exit the train, waving goodbye to Sakusa and Komori who remain on the train before he walks out of the station, beginning the fifteen minute walk to Fukurodani Academy. He starts off listening to music quietly during his walk and sometimes he’s spotted by his classmates who join him and start chatting. 

With Golden Week, there’s no school so Hinata walks alone on a quieter road. Then he spots a boy with blond hair and black roots sitting on a low brick wall. He wears a red tracksuit and holds a phone in his hands. There’s no one else wearing the same tracksuit around and Hinata can’t quite make out the writing on the back due to the backpack obscuring his view so he wonders if the boy is lost. He takes his earphones out and wraps them around his phone before tucking the two into his pocket. Hinata approaches the boy with a cheery smile and a wave.

“Whatcha doing?”

The boy jumps, startled at the sudden address, and turns his head to the source of the voice. His eyes grow wide as Hinata approaches and then turns his head away. “Oh, uhh… I’m lost,” he mumbles.

“Are you not from Tokyo?”

“I am, but not from this part of Tokyo.” He really is soft-spoken, Hinata thinks. “I live further out, in the suburbs.”

“I could help you, if you like,” Hinata offers, smiling warmly. “Where are you supposed to go?”

“Fukurodani Academy. I’ve been once, but I can’t remember the way.”

“Oh!” Hinata exclaims with an excited gasp, forcing the boy to look at him again. He points at himself. “I go to Fukurodani! I’m heading there now because my team has a practice match with another school today so I can take you there if you want?”

The boy quietly considers for a moment, then he looks up at Hinata with a small smile and a nod. “Okay,” he agrees. He puts his phone in his bag which he then slings over his shoulder.

“I’m Hinata Shouyou! I’m a first year,” Hinata says as they begin their walk together.

“Kozume…”

“Eh? Kozume? Is that your name?”

“Kozume Kenma… Second year.”

Hinata almost trips over his own feet. Agh! How embarrassing, he spoke so informally to an upperclassman! He bows low at the hips and Kenma turns around, his golden cat eyes widening. “I’m so sorry! Please forgive my rudeness!”

“Oh, I, uhh… I don’t really care about that age-based hierarchy thing. You can just call me Kenma.”

“Then I guess you can call me Shouyou. But only if you want to!” Kenma nods in response and then they fall into an easy conversation about video games. 

When they arrive at Fukurodani, they see other students walking on campus but they’re all wearing their sports uniforms and Hinata guesses that it’s the other sports teams who also have practice games for that week. “What sport do you play?” Hinata asks. “I can take you to where you need to go.”

“Volleyball.”

“Ehhh?!” Hinata remembers the team set to play them today. “You’re from Nekoma?”

Kenma nods. “Yeah.”

“I play volleyball too! Why didn’t you say?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“O-Oh… Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” Hinata scratches the back of his head. “Do you like volleyball?”

“I don’t mind it. I don’t like getting all tired and sweaty. I just kind of play it because it’s there,” Kenma answers. The two of them walk together, Hinata leading them towards the gymnasium. “Also because my friend plays it too. I plan on stopping after high school.”

Hinata tilts his head to the side. “So what position do you play?”

“Setter.”

“Whoa! Akaashi-san is our setter and he’s so cool but I guess you know that already.”

“Yeah I do, but you’re right. He’s pretty cool,” Kenma agrees with a small smile. “What position do you play, Shouyou?”

Hinata puffs his chest out and proudly puts his hands on his waist. “Wing spiker!” He then makes a spiking gesture with his hand.

“Oh?

Hinata’s cheeks suddenly flush from self-consciousness. “I guess that’s a bit weird, isn’t it? You probably expected me to be a libero because of my height.”

“I mean, I guess but not really,” answers Kenma, much to Hinata’s surprise. “People say similar things about me when I go to games. Like how the setter is supposed to be the best player, so why me? Since I’m not all that athletic or active.”

“Well I can’t wait to play against you today, Kenma!” Hinata says with a bright smile as they arrive at the gym. Kenma blinks and he can’t decide whether he should be endeared by Hinata’s genuine words or to be cautious of how open he is. Hinata Shouyou is an enigma, like a character in a video game whose intentions Kenma hasn’t quite figured out yet.

“Oya?” The two turn and see Bokuto with someone, whom Hinata can only guess is Nekoma’s captain, approaching them. “Made a new friend, Kenma?”

“I got lost.”

“Then why didn’t you call me?”

“I made a new friend.”

The tall boy with black rooster hair slaps his hand over his chest and groans in feign hurt. “Am I so easily replaceable? You wound me.”

“Kuroo, it’s not hard to replace trash,” Kenma replies flatly. Bokuto doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs. That earns him a scolding smack on the back and some playful insult from Kuroo while Kenma rolls his eyes.

Hinata watches them fondly, the scene reminding him of his shenanigans with Sakusa and Komori. He wonders where he would be if he had accepted Itachiyama’s offer. Perhaps right now, Komori would be dragging Sakusa and Hinata by their collars away from the gym to take a break from volleyball. Or maybe he’s begging Iizuna to set for him. Either way, he would be wearing that awfully bright uniform. On him, he would look like a three-in-one highlighter. Hinata knows he can’t change the past, he wouldn’t want to, but still, he can’t help but wonder _what if_. 

“So who’s your new friend?” Kuroo asks, looking pointedly at Hinata.

“Hinata Shouyou, nice to meet you, Kuroo-san!”

Bokuto throws an arm around Hinata’s shoulders and grins. “He’s my number one disciple! After I graduate, he’ll be Fukurodani’s ace!” He declares, sounding like a father proud of his child’s potential and achievements. If Hinata had a father, that is. He imagines he would be proud of him like Bokuto always is.

“You mean he’s _my_ disciple,” Konoha interjects, joining the conversation. He holds a hand up to his ear and turns his head slightly to the side. “Who did he say he wants to be like again? Who does he learn from the most?”

Konoha stays in that position, taunting, teasing Bokuto who frowns. Alright, time for Hinata to intervene, just as he does with Sakusa and Komori when they get in similar petty fights over him - really, he doesn’t understand why he’s worth all this fuss and why he always finds himself in the middle.

Hinata is about to interject when Kenma tugs on his sleeve, catching his attention. Kenma shakes his head, wordlessly telling him that it’s not worth it, before nodding his head over to Akaashi, Kai, Shibayama, and Washio, aka: the calm amidst the storms. The two join them in warmups accompanied with pleasant conversation. Not too long after, Hinata finds himself standing on the court with Akaashi, Bokuto, Onaga, Sarukui, Kato (a second year middle blocker) and Yoshida (a second year libero), opposite Nekoma’s lineup.

This is it, Hinata thinks. This is his chance to prove that he deserves to stand on the court. He won’t take a place away from someone more deserving than him, but Hinata won’t give that place away without putting up a fight. He reminds himself that this is the first game of the first day of Golden Week. There will be plenty of opportunities to show what he’s made of, but first impressions are everything.

Sarukui serves… and it’s an untouched ace.

“Whaaa! That was so cool, Sarukui-senpai!” Hinata gushes, adding several points to Sarukui’s ego.

He serves again but this time, Yaku, Nekoma’s libero, digs it up. The receive is slightly off but it still makes its way to Kenma who tosses it to Yamamoto who spikes it, only to be blocked by Onaga and Kato. Another point. Sarukui serves for a third time but once again, it’s dug up by Yaku who sends it to Kenma. His toss goes to Kuroo who smacks it down. It would have been their point, had Hinata not been there to dig it back up for Akaashi to toss to Bokuto who makes a sharp cross-court shot. 

It carries on like that for a while, until Fukurodani takes the first set with 25-21 on the scoreboard. The second set appears to be in their favour, until Inuoka is subbed out for Haiba Lev. His height is intimidating, especially because he’s the same age as Hinata, but he reminds himself that Onaga is more or less the same height as Lev and with the right timing, even someone as short as him has a chance against a giant.

Then it’s realised that Lev really sucks at receiving. Like, _really_ sucks. Nekoma’s offence increased but their defence is weaker and puts more responsibility on Yaku who looks like he wants to kick Lev. And yet, despite the weaker defence, Nekoma takes the second set after a long deuce ending in 29-27.

In the middle of the third set, after Nekoma gains a two-point lead (13-11), Bokuto pulls Akaashi and Hinata to the side. “Let’s try that thing we’ve been practicing.”

“Bokuto-san, are you sure?” Akaashi asks, the seriousness of a vice-captain expressed on his face. “We only came up with it last week, we barely practiced it. I don’t think it’s a good idea to try something we haven’t mastered yet.”

“Where better to practice how well it works than in a practice match?” Bokuto asks.

“If you think we can pull it off, Bokuto-san, then we can pull it off. I trust in you,” Hinata tells him earnestly. The three of them nod in agreement before standing back in their positions. 

Kuroo serves and Yoshida fumbles the receive, sending it over to Bokuto. Kuroo, Tora, and Lev jump, anticipating for Bokuto to slam it over, however, he tosses it to Hinata who suddenly runs in from the back line, no blockers marking him. Hinata grins as he jumps, arm pulled back, before spiking it down the middle, right past Kenma whose eyes widen in surprise at his speed.

13-12

They try it again, but this time, Hinata is marked by both Tora and Lev. However, Bokuto sets it to Akaashi, again, unmarked, who does a sharp straight shot. This tactic of having Bokuto set instead of Akaashi works if Bokuto’s spikes get blocked, freeing up more options for Fukurodani’s offence. However, it’s only a card that can be played once, maybe twice a set. Any more, then the opponent will start to catch on and mark other players.

13-13 

Ultimately, Fukurodani wins the first game, though Nekoma makes them work for it. While Fukurodani cheers and praises each other, Kenma stands next to Kuroo with a curious glint in his eye.

“Shouyou’s interesting,” he comments.

“Huh? Chibi-kun?” Kuroo looks over to the orange-haired wing spiker in question. “Yeah, he is. That decoy quick he did with Bokuto and Akaashi in the middle of the last set was pretty clever.” He then turns his gaze back on Kenma, whose eyes are still fixed on Hinata. “Oho? You’ve got that look on your face when you can’t beat a boss in a video game.”

Kenma finally tears his eyes away from Hinata just to glare up at Kuroo. “What face?”

“You know, you get all excited and get more eager to beat the boss.”

“There’s no face.”

“This isn’t Spirited Away, Kenma.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No.”

After lunch, Fukurodani and Nekoma come together again for another game. This time, Hinata and the others who played the previous game sit out. This time, the lineup is Konoha, Washio, Komi, Anahori, one other first year, and two second years. Hinata itches to play again, to show his worth. 

Akaashi notices Hinata’s leg bouncing first, then he looks at his face and sees an expression that he’s only ever seen in Bokuto. A kind of hunger reserved only for monsters. Luckily, Akaashi is experienced in dealing with monsters.

“You want to play, don’t you, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata freezes, as if he’s a thief caught red-handed in the night. He turns to face Akaashi, feeling suddenly sheepish. “I’m not that subtle, huh?”

Akaashi smiles fondly. “Not really.”

“I know it’s selfish of me, since I just played and I don’t want to rob others of the chance to play but…” Hinata trails off and looks back to the court longingly. “I want to get better, I want to be stronger.”

The dark-haired setter considers what his reply will be. He looks at the court, then to Bokuto, back to the court, then to Hinata. “Volleyball is not just about being on the court, Hinata-kun. From the outside, we can see more. There is still lots you can learn from watching.”

Hinata’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he looks at his upperclassman. “What do you mean, Akaashi-senpai?”

“Look at players on the court. When we’re on the court, we spend a lot of time trying to figure out where the ball will go that we don’t think about where the players are. Watch them. Try and predict what play they will try next. Who will the blockers mark? What kind of spike will the attackers use? Who will the setter toss to?” Akaashi realises he’s essentially asking Hinata to think like a setter, but if what he said earlier about wanting to be Jack of All Trades, Master of All is true, then it’s not such a bad thing to learn.

Ultimately, Fukurodani win the second game. After that, there are no more scheduled practice games between the two schools, but many of them leave together to hang out and enjoy Golden Week together. Bokuto and Akaashi, who usually stay behind to practice more, are amongst the first to leave once everything was tidied up. Kuroo, Konoha, Washio, and Kenma leave together too, but not without inviting Hinata along.

“Ahh sorry! Maybe next time? I already have plans with friends of mine,” Hinata says and for some reason, it comes as a shock to Konoha. Because, of course Hinata has other friends. A boy like him is a magnet for friendship. But still, these so-called friends were chosen over him and it stings his dignity a little. 

“Alright, well, stay safe!” Is all Konoha can really say to Hinata as he waves him goodbye. 

A walk, a train ride, and another walk later, Hinata is back home. He walks in through the front door and takes his shoes off, greeting whomever is home. When he realises that no one is home, he changes into a simple pair of slim fit jeans, a t-shirt, and a dark teal sports sweater before heading next door. As he expected, Natsu is playing with Komori’s younger siblings after school as she usually does until their mother comes to pick her up after work. Sakusa and Komori are playing video games in the living room but as soon as Sakusa sees Hinata, he’s quick to abandon the game - apparently he’s losing consecutively anyway and didn’t want to give Komori the satisfaction of another victory.

They say their goodbyes to the Komoris and to Natsu before they depart for the train station. Their plans for the evening include watching a movie at the cinema and then grabbing some takeaway before they have a week-long sleepover at Hinata’s house. 

“Won’t your parents miss you?” Hinata asked Sakusa when they made their plans for Golden Week.

Sakusa shook his head at his question. “I’d be surprised if they noticed I was gone.” Hinata frowned at that. “It’s fine, I’d rather be here anyway. And it makes more sense for me to be here.”

Hinata can’t argue with that. Logically, it does make sense for Sakusa to stay at his or at Komori’s for the week, since he’ll just go home with Komori after practice anyway. And it seems a hassle for Sakusa to travel back home in the evening after dinner when the same routine will just repeat itself the following day.

The rest of the week comes and goes in a flash. On Friday morning, Hinata stares at the Golden Week games schedule with a determined smile on his face. 

Monday: ~~Nekoma High (HOME)~~

Tuesday: ~~Nohebi Academy (AWAY)~~

Wednesday: ~~Kamomedai (AWAY)~~

Thursday: ~~REST DAY~~

Friday: Itachiyama Academy (HOME)

“You think you can beat us, Shou-chan?” Komori asks, wearing a sly cat-like smile on his face. The three of them disembark from the train and start the fifteen minute walk to Fukurodani’s campus. “You’re my best friend, but I’ll still go all out.”

“Motoya-san,” Hinata turns his head, looking up at Komori with a smile mirroring his, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t go all out just because we’re friends.”

“I hope you play well today,” Sakusa comments, his voice slightly muffled by the face mask. “I don’t want you to play us and regret your choice.” Ah, Hinata realises, he’s still upset about that. Well, maybe not upset, but bitter. Bitter is a better word for it.

“Do you doubt me, Kiyoomi?” Hinata asks, his amber doe eyes glittering as he looks up at Sakusa.

The way his eyes look now, they remind Sakusa of the night they first met in that gym full of sweaty kids and volleyballs. His eyes look the same way as they did when Hinata asked if Sakusa will join the volleyball club with him He smiles but Hinata can’t see it behind his mask. He hopes his smile reaches his eyes. 

“I could never doubt you, Shouyou.”

Beside them, Komori groans. “I’m so fucking tired of being the third wheel,” he grumbles to himself.

“Ehh? What do you mean, Motoya-san?” Hinata asks in concern.

“Yeah, what do you mean, Motoya?” Sakusa reiterates, his eyes narrowing at his cousin, challenging him, as he looks over Hinata’s head. 

Komori rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t mind me, I’m just mumbling things to myself.”

Hinata scrunches his face up, looking as if he wants to ask further but Sakusa redirects his attention. Soon enough, they arrive at Fukurodani. To say that they caught a lot of people’s attention would be an understatement. People couldn’t help but stare as Hinata, clad in Fukurodani’s white tracksuit, walks flanked by two tall boys, both positively nuclear in their neon yellow and green sports uniform.

People staring is one thing, but for the entire Fukurodani volleyball team - minus Bokuto and Akaashi - to freeze in their tracks like deers in headlights is another thing entirely. A volleyball actually hits Konoha on the head since his attention was on Hinata but he seems entirely unfazed by the hit. 

“Hey, hey, hey! I figured you three would arrive together,” Bokuto greets, his tone all too cheerful and bright at this hour in the morning. He walks over to them, Akaashi at his side, as they talk.

“Wait!” Konoha calls out, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Hinata, are you telling me that the Kiyoomi and Motoya you always talk about during practice is _the_ Sakusa Kiyoomi and _the_ Komori Motoya?!” He asks incredulously. Komori tries not to look too smug about the article in front of his name. He likes the sound of _The_ Komori Motoya. 

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at his upperclassman. “How many Kiyoomi’s and Motoya’s do you know, Konoha-san?”

“That’s not the point!” Konoha exclaims. 

“Yeah, Hinata, how do you know them?” Komi asks. He’s a little wary of what the answer could be, because knowing Hinata, it can be anything. For all he knows, Hinata could have bumped into them on their way here today and made a friend in fifteen minutes. If anyone could do it, it would be Hinata. But that’s unlikely, seeing as Bokuto and Akaashi seem to be aware of their friendship.

“We grew up together!” Hinata answers with a warm smile. Like Bokuto, his bright tone is too early for this time in the morning. “I’ve known them since I was eight!”

 _Of course a monster would be childhood friends with monsters,_ is the thought that is shared by Fukurodani.

“Then how do Bokuto and Akaashi know?” Sarukui asks.

Bokuto decides to answer. “I’ve been playing against Sakusa and Komori since middle school. Hinata would always come to the matches and watch them. I’ve known Hinata for four years now.”

Akaashi raises his hand. “Me too. Though I didn’t meet Sakusa-san and Komori-san until three years ago, when Hinata introduced us.”

“Are you telling me that Bokuto knew something that I didn’t?” Konoha sounds wounded, not from a physical injury but rather one that hurts his pride. “I don’t know what to make of this information.”

“You won’t go easy on them because they’re your friends, right, Hinata?” Washio, ever the responsible one, asks.

Hinata grins mischievously. “Washio-senpai, I’m going to put my all into it because they’re not just my friends, but because they’re my rivals too. And we will beat them.”

And they do.

At least, Fukurodani wins the first game they play and lose the second. 

“I’ll announce the starting lineup on Monday. If you’ve given your all in each play, then you should leave here feeling proud of yourself and with no regrets. Enjoy the weekend and I’ll see you all next week,” Coach Yamiji tells them before dismissing them.

Hinata waits by the Fukurodani school gates. Five minutes pass before he sees Sakusa and Komori walking towards him.

“What kept you?” He asks before the three of them leave together.

“Our coaches,” answers Sakusa.

“They wanted to know who you were,” adds Komori. Then he laughs. “The look on their faces when they realised that you were the one person who rejected their offer.”

Hinata hums thoughtfully. “As much as it sucks that we don’t get to play together, I think it was meant to be that way. I mean, who knows if I would’ve been able to do what I can do now at Itachiyama.”

 _Does that mean you don’t need us-- need me anymore?_ Sakusa asks silently. All this time, he thought that Hinata was chasing after him and Komori, but now he realises he’s wrong about that. Hinata was never chasing him. He was chasing Hinata. And something tells him that he will always be chasing the sun.

🏐

On Monday afternoon, Akaashi stands next to Yukie and Kaori in front of the volleyball team, fiddling with his fingers as he rests his hands behind his back. _Vice-Captain._ Akaashi thinks back to the day Bokuto asked him. It was the last day of his first year and Bokuto’s second. 

“I want you to be my vice-captain, Akaashi,” Bokuto said nonchalantly before he took a bite out of his meat bun. The two of them walked side by side together, exiting the konbini they went to after school.

Akaashi almost dropped the onigiri that Bokuto bought for him - after much insistence on the ace’s part. “Me? Bokuto-san, I’ll only be a second year. The vice-captain is always a third year.”

Bokuto didn’t seem to agree. “Who said that?”

Akaashi realised he didn’t have a great answer for that question so he lamely answered, “Tradition.”

The captain-to-be scratched the back of his neck, lips pursed, unconvinced. “Just because something is traditional doesn’t mean you _have_ to do it.” It’s times like these that Akaashi realised that Bokuto was wiser than most people gave him credit for.

“Wouldn’t Konoha-san be a better choice? Or Washio-san?”

“To be honest with you, I was sure that one of them was going to be the captain, not me,” Bokuto confessed, almost bashfully. He blushed and chuckled nervously. “I’m not stupid, I mean, I do stupid things a lot and I can act pretty stupidly, but I’m not stupid. I was sure that the rest of the third years were going to choose either Konoha or Washio but they chose _me_.” Bokuto paused and smiled to himself, clearly fond of the memory. “I guess that means that there’s something I can offer. Even if I don’t know what that is myself.”

Akaashi knew why the third years chose Bokuto. They chose him because Bokuto is the kind of person that compels you to give it your all since you know he gives everything he has; Bokuto is a true reflection of Fukurodani’s banner. Yes, the most trivial things bring him up or weigh him down, but despite the mood swings, Bokuto is the most reliable person on the team. When everyone loses hope, Bokuto is there to lift them up. So really, lifting him up when he’s down isn’t much to ask for when he does the same for everyone else. 

“If I’m going to be the captain, I want someone at my side who knows me and listens to me, I mean, _really_ listens to me,” Bokuto said. He finished his meat bun in three more large bites. “I already asked Coach and spoke to the other third years about it and they agreed with me. All that’s left is for you to say yes.”

 _This feels like a proposal,_ Akaashi thought. Then blushed at his own imagination. Maybe one day.

He looked at Bokuto who looked at him as if he put the stars in the night sky and blossoms in the trees. With Bokuto’s golden eyes glittering against the sunlight as he earnestly looked at him, how could Akaashi refuse?

Bokuto hands out the jerseys with Coach Yamiji holding the box for him. The two of them walk down the line, congratulating the new members of the starting lineup. Sarukui wipes his eyes with the back of his hand when Bokuto hands him a jersey with the number three on it. At the end of the line, a short boy with orange hair steps forward, smiling brightly at his new captain. Hinata carefully holds the Fukurodani-white jersey in his hands, the bold black number ten staring up at him.

Akaashi can’t help the small smile that comes to his own face. He remembers Hinata as a lost twelve year old boy, looking for the bathroom but offering a unique perspective that changed Akaashi’s life. And now he stands before him, not only as a friend, but as a teammate. Akaashi wonders if Hinata remembers the promise he made. Wonders if Hinata realises he’s already fulfilled that promise through the conversation they shared that day. 

_“You gotta find your reason for wanting to stand on the court.”_ That’s what Hinata said four years ago. And two years later, Akaashi Keiji found his reason soaring through the air like a comet through the night sky. He has Hinata to thank for that.

This year, there are seven regular members, with five benchwarmers and substitutes.

Coach Yamiji goes on to explain that the team they play against determines who plays and what position they play between Konoha, Onaga, and Hinata. If they need a stronger defence, then Onaga plays as a middle blocker with Konoha as a wing spiker, with Hinata ready to substitute if needs be. However, if Fukurodani decides to play more offensively, then Konoha goes in the position of a middle blocker while Hinata plays as a wing spiker, with Onaga ready to sub in if needed. And in the event that Konoha can’t play, then Onaga plays as a middle blocker while Hinata plays as a wing spiker.

“I call this strategy: The Fukuro-Triangle!” Coach Yamiji announces, smacking the whiteboard where he drew the diagram. With the grin he has, it’s clear that he’s proud of the name he came up with. “The name was inspired by the Bermuda Triangle.”

Bokuto and Hinata’s jaws drop as they gasp in genuine awe while everyone else thinks, _Doesn’t that just mean Owl Triangle? And isn’t the Bermuda Triangle where dozens of ships and planes get lost? Isn’t that bad luck?_ Coach Yamiji then calls Bokuto up to say a few words of encouragement to the newly forged team. He stands in front of them, hands on his hips, proudly puffing out his chest to bring attention to the number four he wears on his jersey. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about this year,” he starts, smiling brightly at his team. “We’re gonna go all the way. We’re gonna dig up every ball and spike every hit!” Akaashi, out of instinct, almost interjects and says how it’s impossible to do that, but he holds his tongue. It’s not the time to correct Bokuto. “We’re going to win.” His last statement is a promise and the rest of Fukurodani is ready to help their captain see it through.

**23rd june 2012  
** **sakusa, age sixteen  
** **hinata, age sixteen**

“I can’t believe you’ve lived in Tokyo for thirteen years and you’ve never been to see the Skytree,” Sakusa teases, shaking his head at his best friend. His hands are tucked into the side pockets of his double-layered, duo-coloured hoodie. Summer is a little late this year and the cool Spring breeze still lingers in Tokyo.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! The place is always full of tourists and I’ve never had anyone to go with,” Hinata says in his defence. 

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him. “Shouyou, we’ve been friends for eight years and that means you’ve had eight years to ask me to go to the Skytree with you.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t think you would enjoy it too much,” Hinata admits. “I mean, you really hate crowds-- Yeah see! I bet you’re scowling behind your mask now!” He exclaims, pointing at Sakusa’s face.

Sakusa takes one hand out of his pocket and pushes Hinata’s hand out of his face. Then he holds it, their fingers interlocking before their joint hands rest between them at their sides. “When will you learn that I’m willing to do anything for you?” He asks. 

It’s meant as a rhetorical question but Hinata replies anyway. “I didn’t realise I was so special to you, Kiyoomi.”

“If you didn’t realise, then either you’re not paying attention or I’m not doing enough.” Hinata blushes at that but it escapes Sakusa’s notice as they cross the street together. 

Sakusa’s thankful that he’s wearing a mask, because if he didn’t, the smile on his face would give away how excited he feels about spending the entire latter part of the day with Hinata. Since Hinata’s birthday was on a school day, he couldn’t celebrate his sixteenth properly and so two days later, on a Saturday, Sakusa had planned the entire mid-afternoon and evening with Hinata. 

It works out nicely, since Mirai-san couldn’t get the Saturday off work, Motoya is away for the day at a family gathering on his mother’s side, and Natsu is on a two-day, one-night school trip, due to return this evening. Meaning that everyone else can celebrate with Hinata on Sunday, while today, Sakusa selfishly gets all of Hinata’s attention. 

They spend a good couple of hours just wandering around Tokyo’s streets, deep in conversation as they visit small businesses that tourists often miss. Despite living in Tokyo, neither of them really have the time to explore it since their schedules are usually filled with volleyball and school. 

Now, they’re in Oshinari Park, just minutes away from the Skytree when Hinata suddenly says, “Oh this is a good spot! Let’s take a photo here!” He gets his smartphone out of his pocket and swipes his finger left to open the camera. Then he extends his arm and attempts different angles to try and get himself, Sakusa _and_ the Tokyo Skytree in the frame with little success.

Sakusa shakes his head fondly at his best friend while still thinking that he’s a little bit of an idiot before taking Hinata’s phone from him. Instead of angling the phone up, like Hinata was trying to do, Sakusa angles the phone down, facing up at him and Hinata. They adjust their positions accordingly as they look down at the phone, the two of them in shot with the Skytree looming between them. Hinata throws up a peace sign while he winks and sticks his tongue out and Sakusa removes one of the mask loops from his ear, allowing it to dangle on one side as he allows himself a small smile before he takes a few photos - with Hinata alternating facial expressions and hand gestures.

“Excuse me, would you like me to take some photos for you?” 

Hinata and Sakusa look up and see a young couple, both no older than twenty five, smiling kindly at them. They gratefully agree and stand together on the bridge, the Skytree behind them. Sakusa removes his mask, tucking it into his pocket before he puts an arm around Hinata’s shoulder, pulling him in closer. 

For a moment, Sakusa forgets about the photo and just looks down at Hinata, feeling suddenly fond and warm. His sunshine smile is infectious and Sakusa feels he would be doing his best friend a disservice if he didn’t smile too. Then he turns to the camera and offers a rare, once in a blue moon, smile with his teeth showing. Usually, when told to smile for the camera, Sakusa only smiles with his lips.

After thanking the couple for their kindness, Hinata and Sakusa continue on to the Skytree. After Sakusa shows the ticket attendant their pre-booked (and prepaid by Sakusa) premium tickets, they’re granted entrance. After exploring the Skytree Tembo Deck and buying a few souvenirs and trinkets from the gift shop - all paid for by Sakusa after much bickering between him and Hinata - they head to the Galleria, to the 450th floor. 

They stand together at Sorakara Point, the highest point in the Skytree, and share a quiet moment together. Well, as quiet as it can be for a Saturday in June in one of the busiest cities in the world in one of the most popular tourist attractions.

“So this is what it’s like to be on top of the world, huh?” Hinata says, almost in reverence and Sakusa hums in understanding.

Hinata looks out at the city and suddenly all of Tokyo feels awfully small when one is 450 meters high in the air. It’s humbling moments like these that remind Hinata that he’s really quite insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He’s not sure if there’s a god or _the_ God or gods but he thinks about how lonely it must be for them, to have the world in their hands and to have no one to share it with. 

If he were in their position, who would Hinata share the world with? He doesn’t have to think for long. He knows his answer. He’s always known his answer. Hinata looks to his right and reaches for Sakusa’s hand, taking it out of his pocket and linking their pinkies together.

“I don’t want to let go of this feeling.”

“What feeling?”

Hinata turns his head to look at Sakusa. “To be on top of the world. I only really feel it under two specific conditions.”

“What’s the first?”

“When I spike a volleyball. Well,” Hinata reconsiders his answer, “when I play volleyball generally. But usually when I spike and I can see the other side of the net.”

“And the second?”

Hinata smiles knowingly and turns his eyes back to the city below them. “I thought it was obvious, Kiyoomi.”

“Clearly not.” But Hinata doesn’t elaborate which frustrates Sakusa a little, but not so much to the point he would dwell on it for long. 

They spend another fifteen minutes there before they descend to the 345th floor. Hinata starts to make his way to the elevator when Sakusa pulls him back by his sleeve. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Hinata weakly points his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the elevator. “Down? We’re done with the Skytree, right?”

“And who said that?”

“N-No one, but what else is there to do? We’ve already been in the shop…”

Sakusa turns his head and Hinata follows his line of sight, which leads him to see the Sky Restaurant. His amber eyes grow wide and he’s suddenly shaking his head. He would back away if only Sakusa didn’t have a hold on his sleeve.

“Kiyoomi, _no._ It’s too expensive, I can’t pay for it! I’m happy to eat somewhere else-”

“Who said you’re paying?”

Hinata groans. “You’ve already paid for my Skytree ticket! And for all the stuff I bought from the gift shop!”

“It’s your birthday,” says Sakusa, as if that’s reason enough to spoil Hinata. In Sakusa’s mind, he doesn’t need much of a reason to spoil him. He starts to drag Hinata towards the restaurant entrance, and though the clementine-haired boy tries to resist, he eventually gives up, knowing that Sakusa can easily overpower him if he wants to. “Besides, I already made a reservation.”

And that’s how Hinata and Sakusa end up sitting opposite each other, sitting at a table furthest away from anyone, with the city of Tokyo outside and at their feet at six o’clock in the evening. Hinata fidgets, self-consciously pulling at his sleeves and looking around nervously.

“What’s wrong?”

“This place feels too fancy for me,” Hinata admits. He tries to relax against the chair. “I feel really underdressed. How can you be so relaxed about this?”

Sakusa shrugs as he flicks through the menu. “I’ve learned that fancy places like these don’t care about what you’re wearing, as long as you have the money to pay. When I was younger, I came to a lot of my parents’ work-related gatherings, since they didn’t want to leave me alone with a stranger like a babysitter. It wasn’t too bad, I just kept to myself mostly. No one ever tried talking to me.”

“And now?”

“Now, not so much. They don’t ask me to come with them and even if they did, I wouldn’t go. Not when I have better things to do and better people to be with.”

Hinata frowns a little and his shoulders sink. “I’ve never asked you this before and I’m sorry if this crosses a line.” He takes a deep breath. “How do you feel about your parents? Do you love them?”

Sakusa’s hand stills in mid-motion, the questions catching him off-guard. Then he sets his menu down on the table. “I do, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have mixed feelings about my parents. Because I do love them, but I don’t really know them, I don’t share many memories with them or of them.” Then Sakusa chuckles to himself but there’s no real amusement behind it. It’s cold and empty. “I think of Ryuji-san and Aika-san as my parents more than I do with my own. I think of Motoya as my sibling rather than my actual siblings. Maybe it’s wrong of me to say that, but it’s the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata mumbles, his words weighed down with guilt at bringing the subject up. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“That’s the thing,” Sakusa says, “I’m not sad. Sometimes I feel guilty about it, but not sad. I’m really lucky, I know that. I have two parents who are both successful in their careers so that their children can live comfortably.”

“And spoil their children’s best friends,” Hinata adds.

Sakusa chuckles but this time there’s amusement. “Yeah, that too.”

The waiter comes by and takes their order. Hinata takes a little longer since he’s unfamiliar with a lot of the dishes since the restaurant offers a menu which blends French techniques with Japanese tastes, but gets there in the end with Sakusa’s help. They talk about more lighthearted subjects which include but are not limited to: volleyball, video games, and manga.

“Whoa! This looks so cool!” Hinata exclaims when the waiter brings his plate. “The food looks fancier than me…” He laments but earns a snort of laughter from Sakusa. 

They eat their dinner and by the time dessert rolls by, Hinata is more relaxed than he was when he first arrived. “I always forget how rich you are sometimes.”

“Me too,” Sakusa admits. “I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“College fund?”

“My parents have a separate account for that.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Of course they do,” he says with a laugh. “But you know, if I never went to your house, I never would’ve guessed that you’re a rich kid. You don’t act rich.”

“And what does a rich kid act like?”

Hinata pouts. “I don’t know! Not like you, that’s for sure.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“I don’t know, are you offended by it?”

“No.”

“Then it was a compliment.”

Sakusa shakes his head and rolls his eyes fondly at Hinata before looking out the window. He gasps a little at the sight before him. Hinata raises an eyebrow at Sakusa before he turns to see what he’s looking at, then he too gasps. Below them, the sunset blankets the entire city of Tokyo, its rays washing over every building, the sunlight glittering against every window. Not only that, the city is beginning to come to life. The lights from the buildings and cars below create a moving painting that only those who are four hundred and fifty meters high can see. 

“It’s so beautiful,” Hinata whispers, as if speaking at a higher volume would shatter the tranquility of the scene before them.

Sakusa turns his head to face Hinata and his eyes widen at what he sees: Hinata, bathing in the light of the sunset. He looks at home in the sun. His hair, which is usually a pretty, bold clementine colour, is made softer by the sunlight. His eyes, originally amber in colour, now hold fire and wonder in them. His smile is made warmer by the sunset.

“Yeah, it is beautiful,” Sakusa agrees quietly.

He isn’t much for photos - he usually leaves it to Hinata and Komori to take photos - but this is an exception. After ensuring that the flash is off, he discreetly lifts his phone to take a couple photos of Hinata. Though Sakusa took extra precautions to make sure the flash was turned off, he forgot about putting his phone on silent, so the sound of a photo snap is easily heard, even above the ambient restaurant music.

Hinata hears and turns his head. Instead of teasing Sakusa, he smiles at the camera and well, Sakusa Kiyoomi is not someone who leaves things half-finished, so he takes a few more photos.

**january 2013**

Six months pass by quickly when one’s time is filled with volleyball and schoolwork. The Fukurodani Group held its annual Summer Training Camp, with Shinzen High hosting. There, Hinata refined his decoy plays and grew more as an athlete - though, not in height, much to his dismay. Fukurodani Academy also went to the Summer Interhighs and finished in the quarterfinals. In the Tokyo Representative Playoffs, Fukurodani beat Nekoma in straight sets, and then were beaten themselves when Itachiyama won in the finals - Hinata swore to Sakusa and Komori that he’ll beat them next time. 

Now, it’s the Spring Nationals, it’s Fukurodani’s last chance to win and Hinata is determined to see Bokuto and all his upperclassmen end their high school year as champions. 

Though he’s experienced Nationals every year since middle school and though he’s known for his insane reserves of stamina, nothing truly prepares Hinata for the hellish ordeal of third day hell. It’s odd, he thinks, how he can easily play three or even four practice games in one day and still have energy left for more, but two consecutive official games will leave him exhausted.

“Hinata Shouyou.”

“Ushijima-san.”

“I was disappointed to hear from Sakusa that you chose not to attend Itachiyama.”

Hinata lifts his head higher, the look in his eyes dangerous and ravenous. “The feeling is mutual, Ushijima-san, I was disappointed to hear that you were beaten in the second round yesterday, I thought you were better than that. I was really looking forward to beating you myself.”

Anahori, Fukurodani’s first year setter, who accompanied Hinata to the bathroom, can’t believe what he’s witnessing - a feeling shared by many people who are around to witness the tense situation. Should he get an upperclassman to intervene? Ahh he can’t! The rest of the team is on the other side of the main arena. If he leaves Hinata now, then who knows what will happen? Anahori doubts that it’ll escalate to a fight, but with the feral look in Hinata’s eyes, anything is possible.

“Do not despair, Hinata Shouyou, we will have our fated match one day.” Anahori presumes it’s a promise, but with the heavy bass in Ushijima’s voice, it comes across more as a threat. 

“We will,” Hinata agrees, “and I will beat you.” Shit, shit, shit, where was Anahori’s phone when he needed it? If he told Konoha-senpai and the other third years about this, he’s sure no one would believe him. Well, maybe they would. After all, Hinata did pick a fight with Nohebi’s Daishou when the snake captain antagonised Kuroo-san during the Representative Playoffs.

“I wish you good luck and fortune for the rest of the tournament,” Ushijima says sincerely with a polite nod of his head.

Hinata reciprocates with a courteous nod of his own. “Thank you. Will you be staying for the whole tournament?”

Ushijima nods. “Yes, we have our hotel booked until the end of the week. Our coaches believed it would be beneficial for us to stay and watch some games. I will be watching you closely.”

Is that a threat? That one has to be a threat.

“Good,” Hinata nods, “then you might learn something.”

If Hinata had a microphone in his hands right now, this would be the perfect time to drop it, Anahori thinks. He has to intervene now, his insides twist and turn the longer the interaction between them lasts.

“Hinata-kun, we should get going,” he says, weakly tugging at Hinata’s jacket sleeve. “Akaashi-senpai will be wondering where we are.”

Hinata nods and then bows politely to Ushijima. “Please excuse me, Ushijima-san. Enjoy the rest of the tournament.” He turns to Anahori as they walk back together with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Anahori-kun, didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“N-No, it’s fine, don’t worry. We have a couple of hours until our next game anyway.”

“Which we’ll win,” says Hinata with a grin, raising his hand for a high five. Anahori smiles back at Hinata as he returns the high five. As they walk back, Anahori can’t help but feel that something is wrong. Hinata’s hand felt oddly warm just then… No, it’s just his imagination. Just the jitters of a first year at Spring Nationals.

The next match they play is against Mujinazaka High. Hinata shares Bokuto’s eagerness to play against Kiryuu, the other ace who is considered to be within the top three of the nation. So far, it’s the hardest match they’ve had to play so far and there were concerns when Akaashi had to be substituted out. At that point in the game, Konoha played as the team’s setter, while Onaga came in as a middle blocker. Fukurodani is nothing if not resilient, so it’s not long before Akaashi comes back and together, they win their quarterfinal match.

While most of Fukuordani head back to the hotel to rest, Hinata, accompanied by Bokuto and Akaashi, decide to watch the quarterfinal match between Itachiyama and Inarizaki together, arriving in the middle of the second set. According to the scoreboard, Itachiyama took the first set.

Suna Rintarou meets his fated rival once again. And no, it’s not Iizuna Tsukasa - believe him, he would prefer it to be the setter-captain, he’s easier to taunt and rile up - but Komori Motoya. That damned libero. He’s the only one on the team that really pisses Suna off because he’s the only one that Suna can’t directly talk to, given that the libero never rotates to the front row. That means his trash talk has no effect on him. If he’s to successfully taunt Komori, he’ll have to antagonise him through facial expressions, but the libero is beating him on that front.

Suna would love nothing more than to spike a ball straight into that angelic face but knowing Komori, he’d just dig it up with a devilish smile and a wink. Honestly? Suna would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Komori in the slightest. Fuck, Suna might be a little bit in love. Depending on how this game goes, he might finally cave in and ask for his number.

But now’s not the time for that. There’s no place for crushes on the court. He’s not a twelve year old schoolboy who throws all common sense out of the window when he sees a pretty girl. Instead, he’s a sixteen year old boy who has a volleyball game to play. Later, he can think about how pretty Komori is and be bitter about it.

“You seem distracted.” Sakusa pulls Suna out of his own thoughts. Itachiyama’s ace raises an eyebrow at him from across the net and Suna rolls his eyes. If there’s someone that Suna knows he can’t taunt - mainly because he can’t figure out his weakness yet - it’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Suna shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.”

The rest of the game continues. When Suna prepares to serve, he sees Komori in the middle of the back row. The libero wears a sickly sweet smile, taunting him, tempting him to send his serve his way. Maybe Suna should give him what he wants. He’s never been great at resisting his vices. He tosses the ball high in the air and then jumps as he serves, putting a nasty spin on the ball that even Komori can’t dig up. Hopefully, he doesn’t dig it up.

Just his fucking luck, Suna practically serves the ball to Komori on a silver platter. The least Komori could do was pretend that it was difficult to dig up. Forget asking for his number now, he’s annoyed again. Still, Suna manages to redeem himself by blocking one of the wing spikers. Despite that, it doesn’t stop Osamu from turning around and saying, “Oi, don’t fuck it up again,” when Suna is up to serve again.

Suna says nothing. 

The whistle blows.

“OW!”

Suna smiles smugly. Even if it gave Itachiyama the point, smacking a serve into the back of Osamu’s head was worth it. He plays it off as an accident, of course, though the look Kita-san gives him from the side is telling him that he’s not convincing enough and also that this is not the time or place for it. There’s a snort of laughter from the other side of the court and who else would it be but Komori Motoya laughing.

His laughter is a nice sound, Suna thinks. But he also thinks that the sound of a volleyball smacking into Komori’s face would be nice too. God, if anyone could hear his thoughts now, he’s sure they’d be struggling to figure out if Suna wants to kill Komori or kiss him. Hell, he’s trying to figure that out himself. 

This all started because Atsumu befriended the libero during last year’s All-Japan Training Camp. Suna doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he’s going to make sure Atsumu doesn’t make more friends. 

In the end, Inarizaki came on top as the victors. Suna won’t openly admit it but Iizuna twisting his ankle in the middle of the third set helped them gain the edge against Itachiyama. Okay, maybe Suna will ask for Komori’s number. He’s in a good enough mood.

When he does, Komori smiles at him but this smile is different from the ones he was on the receiving end of during the game. This smile seems genuine. “Sure, why not. Would be nice to actually talk to the guy that’s been making eyes at me for the past two years.”

Suna takes that as a second victory. 

“Kiyoomi!” Suna’s attention is suddenly drawn to the short, orange-haired Fukurodani player who referred to Itachiyama’s ace by his given name. Truth be told, Suna never would have guessed Sakusa would be close enough to anyone to let them call him by his first name. “You were amazing out there! You were like WAHBAM and then WHOOSH!”

Suna thinks it must be another cousin, a younger cousin, but when he sees the soft, fond smile on Sakusa’s face, he realises that the boy is someone whom he has a bond with that goes beyond blood. Suna didn’t think that Sakusa could smile like that. 

Suna watches as Sakusa gently presses the back of his hand to the boy’s forehead. He frowns slightly and proceeds to tell him something but Suna can’t quite make it out.

“Say, Komori-kun,” Suna begins, “who’s the kid?”

Komori follows his line of sight and when he sees who Suna is referring to, he groans and rolls his eyes. “Hinata Shouyou, mine and Sakusa’s best friend. Grew up together.”

“Are they really just friends? They seem… closer.”

“Try telling them that, I’ve been trying for the past nine years.”

Well, at least Suna now knows Sakusa Kiyoomi’s weakness.

🏐

To Sakusa, losing in the manner that they did won’t taste as bitter as it does if Hinata and the rest of Fukurodani win in the finals. And with the way they’re playing, they have a real chance of winning this year. They beat Inarizaki in the semi-finals and they were the favourites to win after Itachiyama lost against them. Sakusa will never forget the moment that Hinata scored the winning point, slamming the ball right over the Miya Twins’ and Suna’s heads, landing smack dab in the middle of the court.

Sakusa has never seen Hinata play better than now. Maybe he can admit that maybe, just maybe, Hinata made the right choice in going to Fukurodani instead of Itachiyama. He has grown in ways that Sakusa could never have anticipated and he’s not sure that Hinata could have learned what he has at Itachiyama.

He sits with Komori, and because of what transpired after the quarterfinals, that also means sitting with Suna. And unfortunately for the Inarizaki middle blocker, the twins decided to stick to his side like a leech today. So the five of them all sit together to watch the final between Fukurodani and Ichibayashi. In Fukurodani’s cheer stand, Mirai, Natsu, Aika, and Ryuji watch and cheer for Hinata and the rest of the team.

“I’m going to set to him one day,” Miya Atsumu says, his hair now dyed blond. He said it was so that people could finally make the distinction between him and his twin brother. “He’s a monster,” he says in awe, iis eyes never leaving the tangerine-haired boy who flies around on the court. 

An ugly feeling rears its head and Sakusa identifies it as soon as he feels it: possessiveness. He hates it, but he can’t help himself. He yearns for Hinata’s attention and he’s not against stepping on others to get it. Komori and the Fukurodani volleyball team already take up enough of Hinata’s attention as it is and Sakusa won’t stand aside while another tries to cut in on his time with Hinata.

“Don’t worry, Omi-kun, he’s all yours off court,” Atsumu assures, laughing to himself. He playfully slaps Sakusa’s arm. “Man, yer face is absolutely murderous. It’s as if ya think I said I wanna date him.”

“Even if he did, ya don’t have to worry, Sakusa. No one would wanna date ‘Tsumu with a face like his,” Osamu says with a roll of his eyes.

“We have the same fuckin’ face, ya dipshit.”

“Nah, he’s right, somehow Osamu-kun has the nicer face,” Komori agrees and that sends Suna and Osamu into fits of laughter. Even Sakusa grins.

“The fuck- You were my friend first, Motoya-kun?!” Atsumu cries out, feeling completely, utterly, absolutely betrayed.

“Fuck, wish Suna asked for your number sooner, Motoya-san,” says Osamu in between laughs.

“I would’ve if he didn’t piss me off so much whenever we play,” Suna grumbles. Then Komori smiles and Suna feels his heart crumble in his chest. Fuck.

Attention redirects back to the match in front of them. It’s the third set and every player and spectator knows that when each team has a set each, taking the third set can make all the difference. Hinata truly is a gifted decoy, Sakusa thinks. He throws everything he has into every play he makes that sometimes, he even fools himself and is surprised when the ball doesn’t come to him. 

Everyone in Fukurodani seems to have a renewed kind of ferocity to them as they play. There’s little holding back and hesitation, as if every lesson they learned during the tournament is coming to fruition in this game. The team’s morale is high and usually, it’s because of Bokuto but this time, it’s the combined charisma of both Bokuto _and_ Hinata. Not only are they skilled players, but they’re also tremendously fun to watch. Fun, sometimes Sakusa forgets that volleyball can be fun, but when he watches Hinata play, he remembers and smiles.

Sakusa thinks back to Hinata’s sixteenth birthday, the day they visited the Skytree together and Hinata told him that he feels on top of the world when he can see the other side of the net and spikes a volleyball. He wonders if he feels on top of the world now. He hopes he does. 

Every time Hinata flies through the air, Sakusa remembers the first time he saw Hinata play volleyball. He remembers a young boy of eight, with clementine hair and sunshine for a smile, soaring through the air as if he had wings for arms. And now, eight years later - almost nine - there is Hinata, sixteen years old, with owl wings for arms as he flies through the air. He wears summer sunlight for a grin, blinding his opponents as he spikes a ball into their side of the court. 

Sakusa can’t help but marvel at the sight, can’t help but be in awe of his best friend. But then in the middle of the fourth set, when Hinata falls on the ground and doesn’t get back up, Sakusa feels his heart go with him. His world darkened to night the second the sun went down and didn’t rise again.

The entire arena holds its breath as they watch Hinata try to get up, only to wobble and fall back to the ground. For a moment, a very brief, fleeting moment, Sakusa thinks volleyball isn’t worth this. If this is the price one has to pay to stand on the court, to devour the sport until it starts to devour you back, forcing you on your knees, weeping for the world to witness, then Sakusa doesn’t want to pay it and he doesn’t want Hinata to pay it either. 

Fukurodani calls for a time-out and the arena is filled with murmurs and mumbles. Komori stands to his feet, eyes wide with fear and concern. He turns to Sakusa, only to find that he’s already making his way down the row and to the nearest exit. Curse Sakusa and his never telling Komori whenever he’s about to do something. He runs after his cousin, throwing quick apologies as he goes.

Sakusa stands by the barriers in the arena, only meters away from Hinata, wanting nothing more to rush out and take him in his arms. But he can’t. He has to wait. Komori stands at his side and pats his back reassuringly. They’re soon joined by Mirai and Natsu, both wearing worry on their faces.

Natsu’s bottom lip wobbles, looking like her brother when he’s about to cry. “Is _nii-chan_ gonna be alright?” She asks in a small voice.

Komori crouches down, now eye-level with the ten year old girl. “Shou-chan will be okay. Isn’t your brother one of the strongest people you know?” Natsu nods. “Then he’ll beat this, won’t he?” She nods again. Komori smiles and ruffles her hair gently as he stands back up. Natsu reaches up and holds his hand for comfort. He squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“Was Fukurodani’s number ten injured?”

“What really? That sucks! Poor guy…”

“Damn, poor guy and poor Fukurodani for losing him. Really bruised their momentum.”

Sakusa can’t bear to hear it. How dare they. How dare these people who know nothing about Hinata talk about him in such a way. He scoffs and that gets Komori’s attention. His cousin looks at him and realises what he’s about to do. But before he can stop him, Sakusa already begins to talk.

“Say for instance…” He begins, catching the onlookers’ attention, “...a tiny meteorite fell from the sky right now. Say that meteorite bonked somebody on the head. Just be nice to the guy and help as much as you can. Nothing else is necessary.” His eyes sharpen into a glare. “If you're going to stand around talking loudly to each other about how you pity him... Then I feel even sorrier for him. Nothing sucks worse than someone telling you, "You poor thing."” 

The onlookers’ eyes widen and their jaws drop. Komori scrambles to apologise to them. “Sorry about him! He has the tendency to be negative sometimes.”

Sakusa redirects his glare to Komori. If it were anyone else, they would shrink under his gaze but Komori has known this glare all his life. He’s immune. “I’m not being negative, I’m being truthful. What is pity good for? Nothing.”

“Yeah you’re right, but you don’t have to scold strangers about it. Let them think what they think, it shouldn’t affect you.”

Sakusa holds his ground for a moment and then relents. “I just didn’t like the way they were talking about Shouyou,” he says in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. 

“I know, Kiyo-chan,” Komori murmurs, “me too.”

They wait as patiently as they can. What feels like hours, when in reality it’s only a few minutes, one of Fukurodani’s managers - Suzumeda Kaori, Sakusa remembers - accompanies him off the court. A fever, she tells them. 39.1 degrees Celsius and he’s to go to the hospital. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. Why didn’t he insist earlier when he noticed how warm Hinata’s forehead was two days ago? 

_Because he’s a monster and you are too,_ the tiny, devilish voice in his head tells him, _and monsters aren’t bound to the limits of mortals._

But he’s human and so is Hinata. The world can call them monsters all they like, but it doesn’t make them one.

Hinata hugs his mother first, throwing his arms around her torso. She lovingly strokes his hair and presses a motherly kiss to the top of his head, murmuring kind reassurances to her son as he cries into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, I failed, you took time off work to come and watch me and I failed-”

“Shouyou, never say that again.” Mirai holds Hinata at arms length, looking at him directly in the eyes. “You are my son. You have never failed me, not once, and not today. I love you and I am so proud of you.” Then she pulls him back in her arms.

Sakusa tries to remember the last time his own mother held him like that. It must’ve been before Sakusa could form memories, in which case, it has been a very, very long time since he was held by his mother. He’s not entirely sure what he’s missing out on. Is there something particularly special about a mother’s hug? 

Then Hinata hugs his little sister and Sakusa smiles a little. He’s glad that Hinata is close to his sister, despite the six-year difference between them. A part of him wishes that his older siblings cared about him enough to check on him more often, and not just during the national holidays and his birthdays. Even then, they just give him money as a gift - as if Sakusa doesn’t have enough of his own already - and talk about current events rather than family affairs.

“I should’ve listened to you, Kiyoomi,” Hinata says in a small voice. “Are you going to tell me ‘I told you so’?” He looks up at him with glossy eyes and Sakusa’s heart breaks even more.

“I could,” says Sakusa quietly. “But I don’t care about that. I only care about you.” He reaches out with his hand and cups Hinata’s cheek. “You really scared me, y’know.”

Hinata throws himself at Sakusa, wrapping his arms around his torso, burying his face into his chest. Sakusa runs his fingers affectionately through Hinata’s hair which is somehow still soft despite the sweat. Maybe he’s just romanticising it a little too much. Hinata murmurs apologies into his chest, directly to Sakusa’s heart. 

“It’s okay, Shouyou. It’s okay,” he says in a gentle tone that he reserves for Hinata. “Your job now is to get better and to look after yourself.” He feels Hinata nod against his chest.

“Hinata-kun, go and get changed out of your sweaty clothes, ‘kay? I’m going to go call a taxi for you, me, your mother and sister.” Kaori tells him. 

Hinata pulls away from Sakusa’s arms to look at Kaori. “Can Kiyoomi and Motoya come?” He asks.

Komori answers for Kaori. “We can’t. Technically, we’re under Itachiyama’s care during the tournament so we’d have to ask our coaches for permission to come with you,” he explains. “But, we can come with you to the changing rooms to get your things and take you outside.”

Kaori nods. “That’s a good idea. Your mother, sister, and I will wait by the entrance for the taxi, alright? We’ll see you there.” It doesn’t take long for Sakusa and Komori to help Hinata to the changing rooms and to pack his things. When they come out, they see Kozume Kenma from Nekoma waiting patiently by the main stairs. When the setter sees them, he approaches them.

“Kenma, what are you doing here?” Hinata asks.

Kenma smiles softly with no hint of pity. “Came to cheer up a friend,” he answers and Hinata’s eyes start to water again.

“Kenma… Can you find me a way to watch the game?” Hinata asks.

The other boy reveals a tablet from behind his back and holds it up with a kind smile. “Here. Brought this for you to borrow.” Then Hinata does cry and it takes a moment for him to stop. The three of them leave Hinata in his mother’s, sister’s and Kaori’s capable hands, waving as the taxi leaves them, before they return inside.

🏐

Who knew that the sound of a ball hitting the floor could be so deafening? It’s all Akaashi can hear, the audible smack of a ball on the ground, replaying in his head over and over again. If only he had been faster- no- maybe if Hinata was there, he could have dug the ball up. No, that’s wrong. Thoughts like that have no place on the court. Akaashi can save the self-pity for when he’s alone, he can’t afford to think like that, not now.

“That one was my fault!” Konoha cries out. Akaashi turns his head and sees the team’s Jack of All Trades bent over, holding himself up by the hands on his thighs. “My set was awful, way too short!”

“The fact that you could even set the ball at all was pretty amazing to me, Konoha,” Bokuto praises. There’s no spite in his words, there never is. Bokuto is the most sincere person Akaashi knows. “That was my fault.” _No, no it isn’t, Bokuto-san, please don’t say that._ “I needed to score off of that one. Spiking every ball with full confidence is one of the rules of being a normal ace!”

Tears travel south on Akaashi’s face as he bites his bottom lip in restraint. All he wants to do is reach out, tell him that it’s not his fault either and that he shouldn’t blame himself. He doesn’t _want_ to, not to Bokuto. Not when he knows that he’s an ace all the way down to his core, foibles and all. Akaashi forces himself to look down at his feet and he bites the inside of his cheek.

 _Stop crying, Keiji._ He can hear his father’s voice in his head.

“Keiji, it’s okay.” Akaashi looks up and sees Bokuto smiling kindly at him. How? How can he stand there and tell him that it’s okay when it’s not? Bokuto lifts his hand to Akaashi’s face, gently wiping his tears away. Akaashi feels himself sinking into Bokuto’s hands. “It’s okay,” he says again, more softly this time. Akaashi looks into his eyes for any signs of tears, but finds nothing. Not even a shine or gloss of a single tear. Come to think of it, in the two years he’s known Bokuto, he’s never seen him cry. Ever. Not even when he was in one of his low moods.

It’s then that Akaashi realises he’s severely underestimated Bokuto’s emotional strength.

“Y’know, in the end, you were a really, really, really, really, _really_ big pain in the ass,” Konoha says as he pushes himself up to stand straight. “But if I wasn’t on the same team as you, I never would’ve gotten to see this view from center court. I’m really lucky that I am. So don’t you quit, you keep going, alright?” He smacks Bokuto on the back. “And give it everything you have, ‘cause I’ll be cheering for you one hundred and ten percent of the way, Mr. Just-A-Normal-Ace.”

Bokuto grins. “You got it.”

After the awards ceremony, Akaashi opens his phone to see a message from Hinata to the Fukurodani Volleyball Club group chat.

> H. SHOUYOU: You were all amazing! You should be proud of yourselves! 😁 I’m only sorry I couldn’t see it through to the end with you all 🥺😭
> 
> A. KEIJI: You don’t have anything to apologise for, Hinata-kun. We’ll get them together next year, I promise you. How are you feeling?
> 
> K. AKINORI: Hell yeah!! We’ll come and watch you!! 😎
> 
> B. KOUTAROU: Hinata!!!! Once you feel better, I’m gonna treat you to some barbecue!!!!! Need to build muscle for next year’s ace!!!!!! 💪🏼💪🏼
> 
> K. AKINORI: 😡😡 
> 
> K. AKINORI: I’ll take you out for some ginger pork!!
> 
> K. HARUKI: No fair ☹️ I want to treat him too!!!!!
> 
> B. KOUTAROU: HA! Get in line Komi!!!!!
> 
> S. YAMATO: I’ll buy you meat buns Shou-kun!!!!
> 
> W. TATSUKI: You’re all going to make him fat with that amount of food. I will buy him the next cover of Jump instead.
> 
> O. WATARU: Don’t worry, Washio-senpai, I’ll help him with his food 😋
> 
> H. SHOUYOU: Hahaha I look forward to it!! They just finished with my checkup. It’s just a fever so they’re going to give me some medicine to take with me and I’ll be discharged soon 🥳 I’ll see you all at the hotel!!! 
> 
> A. KEIJI: That’s a comfort to hear, Hinata-kun ☺
> 
> B. KOUTAROU: See you soon my number one disciple!!!!! Make sure you get some sleep when you arrive!!! We’ll eat a massive dinner together when you’re better!!!! 

“Bokuto-san, Akaashi-san.” Akaashi turns his head to the source of the voice and sees Sakusa Kiyoomi approaching them, with Komori walking at his side. Oh. Of course. He would want to know who’s responsible for not noticing Hinata’s symptoms sooner. He’s (rightfully) angry and likely wants someone to blame and Akaashi can’t fault him for that. After all Bokuto’s been through, he doesn’t need to shoulder this too. Akaashi will take responsibility for this.

Akaashi bows to Sakusa and Komori, much to his teammates’ surprise. “Please forgive me. For not looking after Hinata-kun properly.” He lifts his head but remains bowed. “As his setter, I should have noticed his symptoms sooner, I should have taken more notice-”

“Akaashi-san, there’s no need for apologies. I’m not angry,” Sakusa interrupts but Akaashi finds that difficult to believe. He has every reason to be angry. And with the mask obscuring his facial expression, it’s hard for Akaashi to get a read on him.

“It’s true,” Komori says, supporting his cousin’s words. “It would’ve been difficult for anyone to notice Hinata’s condition, even us, and we’ve known him since he was eight. Hinata’s stamina levels are ridiculous and it’s hard to tell when he’s running himself into the ground. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Akaashi bows again, but this time it’s not one of apology, but one of gratitude. Then he stands straight once again. “Then may I ask, why are you here?”

“To thank you,” Sakusa answers. Then he looks at the rest of the team. “To thank all of you.” And to that, Komi almost chokes on the water he drinks and Konoha almost trips into Washio.

“What for?” Bokuto asks, looking positively owlish as he tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“For looking after Hinata when we can’t. For giving him another family,” answers Komori with a sincere smile. “He’s happy at Fukurodani and we have you to thank for that. So thank you.” Then together, he and Sakusa bow. After they rise, they nod their heads in farewell and turn to leave but not without Komori calling over his shoulder, “We’ll beat you next year!”

Akaashi smiles. “I’d like to see you try, Komori-san.”

**march 2014  
** **sakusa, age eighteen  
** **hinata, age seventeen**

Hinata’s second year was an eventful one to be sure. He became Fukurodani’s ace. After Bokuto and the other third years graduated, Akaashi was chosen to be Fukurodani’s next captain and with that, he asked Hinata to be his vice-captain. Hinata jokingly asked if this was a recurring theme for Fukurodani captains, to ask someone in the year below to be their vice-captain. He accepted, but it wasn’t until the Summer Interhigh preliminaries that he understood why he was asked. 

_The sight of your back must be an inspiration to your teammates._

That’s the first rule to being an ace. Hinata was chosen by Akaashi to be the vice-captain because he is an inspiration to the team, much like Bokuto when he was their ace. On a more personal level, Akaashi trusts Hinata’s opinions and instincts. They balance each other out. When Akaashi overthinks, Hinata is always there to pull him out and lift him up. When Hinata gets too far ahead of himself, Akaashi can be counted upon to ground him. 

They reached the semi-finals of the Summer Interhigh, losing to Inarizaki after a long deuce in the third set. Hinata was then invited to the All-Japan Training Camp in December 2013. He cried the day that Coach Yamiji told him about the invitation. It was there that he met Kageyama Tobio, the official setter of Shiratorizawa and Coach Washijo, both of whom took an interest in him. Then, in the Spring Nationals, Hinata had the amusing pleasure of watching Komori play against his boyfriend - yes, _boyfriend_ \- Suna during the semi-finals. That time, Itachiyama came out on top, advancing to the finals where they played against Kamomedai whom Fukurodani lost to in the semi-finals. In the end, Kamomedai stood alone as the victors of the Spring Nationals.

“Have you told Sakusa and Komori yet?” Kenma asks after he wins another game of Mario Kart against Hinata.

Hinata puts his controller down and leans against the back of the sofa, sinking into the soft leather. “I told Motoya-san last night but I haven’t told Kiyoomi yet. I plan to tell him this weekend when he gets back from visiting his grandmother in Okinawa.” He sighs and rubs his forehead. “We got into an argument when I told him that I chose Fukurodani over Itachiyama. I don’t know how he’s going to take this.”

“Wish I could help but you know him better than I do, Shouyou.”

“I know, I know.” Hinata then frowns. “Am I completely crazy for doing this?”

“Yes,” Kenma replies with little hesitation. “But if anyone can pull it off, you can. Sakusa will understand.”

“Three years is a long time.”

“Well technically you have one more year of high school. Then you have beach training. And then you go to Brazil. So you have two more years in Japan. That’s two years he has with you before you go. That’s four years in total, Shouyou.”

“That’s even worse.”

Kenma smiles. “It’ll go by faster than you think it will.”

“I think Kuroo-san is rubbing off on you, you’re starting to sound old like him.”

“Shouyou,” Kenma lowers his phone and looks at Hinata with complete seriousness, “you’re one of my best friends so I will forgive you just this once for that comment.” 

🏐

Sakusa doesn’t like beaches. He doesn’t like sand. But he likes the sun and its warmth so he bears with it. He accompanies his grandmother on a walk along the beaches of Okinawa. At this time of the year, anywhere else, it would be cold, but in Okinawa, it’s warm. Well, warmer than Tokyo at least. Instead of wearing shoes, which would practically invite the sand to make a home there for months, he opts to go barefooted as he walks, holding his shoes by hooking his fingers at their backs, while supporting his grandmother with his other arm.

“Kiyoomi-kun, you’re getting a lot taller, huh?” Sakusa Nami is a lovely old woman, with a smile as sweet as sugarcane. Her curly hair is silver grey and comes down to her chin. Sakusa gets his curly hair from her side of the family. She’s significantly shorter than him, shorter than Hinata too, standing at 149cm. 

“Or maybe you’re shrinking, _oba-chan,_ ” teases Sakusa affectionately.

She seems to consider it for a moment then rejects it with a firm shake of her head. “Nope, you are definitely getting taller. Any taller and I will need a step stool to look at you in the eye.”

“If you say so, _oba-chan_ ,” Sakusa says. 

The seagulls cry out above them and the sun is kind to them, emitting a tolerable heat. They walk along the shoreline together, letting the water wash over their feet before it retreats back into the sea with the tide. To the surprise of others who find out this fact about him, despite Sakusa disliking dry sand, he enjoys the feeling of his feet sinking into wet sand. There’s some sort of childlike innocence attached to the sensation, reminding Sakusa of the summers he spent in Okinawa as a young child.

“Have you got a girlfriend yet?”

“ _Oba-chan…_ ” Sakusa’s voice trails off in warning.

“Or a boyfriend?” Nami asks. When Sakusa looks down at her, an eyebrow raised in questioning, she continues. “Don’t look at me like that. Did you think your _oba-chan_ doesn’t know about things like that? Ha!”

“To answer your question, no, to both.”

“Which do you prefer?”

Sakusa hesitates. He’s never said it aloud before. There’s only ever been one person for him so Sakusa has never looked at anyone else before. He clears his throat. “Boys.”

“Do you have someone you like?”

It’s strange, Sakusa thinks, how his grandmother is more invested in his life than his own parents are. It’s this investment that makes him feel safe and secure. Anything he says to his grandmother will be kept in confidence, of this, he’s certain. “I do.”

“And you haven’t told him?”

“No.”

“Why not, Kiyoomi-kun?”

“Fear.”

“Of?”

“Rejection.” Then Sakusa reconsiders. “No, that’s incorrect. I don’t care if he rejects me. I’m prepared for that outcome. I’m afraid of him rejecting me and it affects our relationship. I don’t want what we have to change.” Sakusa looks out to the sea, watching as the waves stretch on and on for miles into the horizon. “I’m afraid of losing his friendship. And because of that, I would rather stay by his side, loving him in silence, than to speak up and ruin all that we have.”

Nami listens intently to her youngest grandchild’s fears and reassuringly pats the arm she holds onto. They walk away from the shoreline, back to where the sands are dry and sit down together. She buries her feet into the soft sand.

“Sounds like a similar situation your _ojii-san_ was in when he was younger.”

“He was afraid to lose you?”

“No, my child, he was afraid to lose his best friend, Ryo.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, _oba-chan_ …” Sakusa says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Your _ojii-san_ was in love with his best friend,” Nami begins, as if she’s reading a storybook by the fire. “In those times, society was less accepting than now. In those days, if people found out you were attracted to someone of the same sex, you were ostracised and made a social pariah, so Hiroshi never said anything. He met me and due to family expectations from both sides, we were married.”

“But you and _ojii-san_ loved each other,” Sakusa interjects. It doesn’t make sense. The story his grandmother tells him doesn’t correlate with the memories he held as a child.

Nami nods. “Yes, that is also true. I knew about his preferences early on in our marriage but it never affected our relationship. We were both trapped but we made the best of our situation. He became my best friend, my confidante, and I know I was the same for him. We were happy, we spent our married lives as best friends.” She grabs a handful of sand and gently rubs it between her fingers, letting the sand fall back on the floor, before repeating the process. “It was a few years after we married, I encouraged Hiroshi to confess to Ryo. I remember, I said: _If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if.’_ It took him two years before he finally did and they were so happy. A month after he confessed, Ryo died from tuberculosis.”

“This is a sad story.”

“It is. The only regret Hiroshi had before he died was that he didn’t tell Ryo sooner - they could have had more than a month. That said, the month he had loving Ryo made him happier than all the years he spent loving him in silence.”

Oh. Sakusa now understands. 

“Is this your way of telling me to confess before I regret not confessing?”

Nami smiles and reaches for Sakusa’s face with her hand. She cups the side of his face affectionately, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “I want you to live your life in such a way, so that at the end of each day, if it were your last day, you would be satisfied and have no regrets.”

Sakusa has it all wrong.

If there’s one thing he fears more than change, more than losing Shouyou’s friendship, it’s losing Shouyou himself.

🏐

The weekend arrives quickly and does nothing to settle Sakusa’s nerves. His palms are sweaty and he keeps wiping them on his shirt - how unlike him - and he keeps repeating the words he wants to say in his mind, becoming a sort of mantra or incantation. When Hinata arrives at his house, he wonders if the clementine-haired boy can see right through him.

They sit together outside in Sakusa’s garden, on a bench under a near-blooming sakura tree. The wind passes by gently, its breeze tickling the leaves and blossom buds of the trees around them and the flowers planted in the ground. Sakusa inhales and exhales. Yes, that’s it. Just keep breathing, that’s the key. 

“I have something to tell you,” they say to each other simultaneously. Then their eyes grow wide in surprise and pink tints both of their cheeks.

“You go first,” Hinata says.

“No, you can go first,” Sakusa insists. The longer he has to think, the better.

Hinata rubs his own hands nervously and he avoids Sakusa’s gaze, reminding the older boy of the time that Hinata told him that he chose Fukurodani over Itachiyama. Then Hinata clears his throat and turns to Sakusa, taking both of his hands in his. Oh God. Wait. Is Hinata about to beat him to the confession? Well that makes things easier for Sakusa because if Hinata confesses, then he can easily reciprocate his feelings and--

“After graduation, I’m going to go to Brazil and train in beach volleyball.”

Wait.

What. The. Fuck.

“Now hear me out before you say anything,” says Hinata, seeing the look on Sakusa’s face. “During the All-Japan Training Camp, we did all sorts of exercises as you know, but one of them really stuck with me. The two-on-two drills. When you’re playing as a pair, you have to do everything, only two people can cover the whole court, just like beach volleyball. In order to grow and evolve, I want- no- I _need_ to learn how to do everything. I want to be like Konoha-san but better, stronger.”

“Are you switching from indoor to beach volleyball?”

Hinata shakes his head. “I’m just gonna be using it for training.”

“But why do you have to go to Brazil to do this?”

“Washijo-san from Shiratorizawa took an interest in me during the camp. Apparently he’d already heard of me from Ushijima-san who spoke highly of me - honestly, I didn’t think he actually liked me. Anyways, Washijo-san has a contact who can help me, but he lives in Brazil. He’s offered to help me for two years, with the condition of me preparing a whole year before I go.”

Sakusa’s brain feels like it was just spiked like a volleyball. How did his plan derail so quickly? God, he wishes he went first. Why didn’t he? He should have confessed first. Maybe if he did, Hinata would rethink this insane plan of moving to Brazil to play beach volleyball. Then Sakusa almost laughs aloud. Almost. How utterly presumptuous and vain of him. As if he’s important enough in Hinata’s life to put volleyball on hold, as if Hinata would even consider changing his plans for him. 

“What do you think?” Hinata asks. Really, after a decade of friendship, nothing should surprise Sakusa about Hinata anymore. Yet Hinata seems to like to challenge that every couple of years. 

“Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one insane enough to think of this,” Sakusa says and he swears he sees Hinata’s hair deflate, like Bokuto’s hair when he’s in one of his sad moods. “But, you’re also the only one who can actually do this and pull it off. If anyone can do it, you can, Shouyou.”

A smile grows on Hinata’s face and then suddenly, he throws his arms around Sakusa’s neck, pulling him into a hug. “Oh thank God, I thought you were going to be mad at me. Or upset.”

Well, Sakusa is definitely upset, but he’s not about to let Hinata know that. Who is he to stand in front of Hinata and his dream? Who is he to defy the sun?

“Again, I don’t really understand it. I think you should stay in Japan. But I don’t have to understand it. All I need to do is accept it and support you,” Sakusa says. “Just as I always have done and always will do.”

Hinata’s eyes glisten with tears. He laughs a little as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, preventing any tears from slipping out. “I’m so lucky to have you, Kiyoomi.” _You will always have me_ , is what Sakusa wants to say but knows he can’t. “Now what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh uhh…” Now’s your chance, Sakusa! You can still tell him! “It’s nothing. I forgot.”

“But you never forget things.”

“First time for everything. Look at you, you’re going to travel abroad for the first time and I know you’ve never done that.”

“Well, yeah that’s true…” They fall into a conversation about travelling and airplanes. About Brazil. All the while, a single thought occupies Sakusa’s mind: _I love you, please don’t leave me again._

**april 2016  
** **sakusa, age twenty  
** **hinata, age nineteen**

Two years and a month have passed since the day Hinata told Sakusa about his plans to train in Brazil. Sakusa has spent the past two years trying (and in his mind, failing) to suppress his feelings for Hinata. Being away from him because of college helped for a time since his schedule demanded a lot of attention. Hinata was busy too, busy trying to graduate and then soon after that, he spent nearly every day at the beach, training for the two years ahead of him. Hinata always feels _just_ out of his reach.

“Omi-kun! There’s my third favourite wing spiker,” Atsumu greets as he enters Sakusa’s top floor apartment and takes off his shoes.

Sakusa narrows his eyes at MSBY Black Jackals’ setter. Why did Komori have to invite him again? Oh right, yes, this leaving party is for Hinata and therefore, any and all of Hinata’s friends are invited. And with Hinata being Hinata, he has a lot of friends. “Why am I your third favourite?”

Atsumu taps his chin. “Actually, scratch that, yer my fourth favourite. Aran-kun’s my favourite.” Sakusa would be concerned if Atsumu’s boyfriend isn’t his favourite. “Then it’s Shouyou-kun, and then it’s Bokkun, _and_ _then_ it’s you,” he says, poking Sakusa’s chest, earning the blond a sour look.

“Why do you stick to me like a leech?”

“Because I’m one of the very few people outside of yer family and Shouyou-kun that can tolerate yer foul personality.” Atsumu grabs two drinks from the table and passes one to Sakusa. “Dunno if ya realise this, Omi-kun, but for some reason, I actually like yer company and ya like my company too. That makes us friends. Best friends even. Obviously not on the same level as Shouyou-kun but really, no one can ever reach that level.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about me liking your company. I insult you in every other sentence.” At least verbal sentences. Sakusa has definitely insulted him more in his head.

“If ya truly didn’t like my company, ya would’ve left me to find someone else already,” Atsumu points out and then it dawns on Sakusa that maybe, just maybe, Miya Atsumu _is_ one of his friends. Good Lord. He takes a moment to lament that sad fact. “Has it sunk in yet? Good! Now let’s go and annoy Komori and Suna until the man of the hour arrives.”

Now that is something that Sakusa can get on board with.

Half an hour passes and in that time, all of the guests arrive, filling Sakusa’s apartment. If it weren’t for Shouyou, Sakusa would have insisted that Komori hold the leaving party elsewhere. He’d even chip in for the rental cost of a hall. But it’s Shouyou and Sakusa has accepted the fact that he will always be the only exception. 

Originally, the apartment is owned in his parents’ name, but they gave it to him as a high school graduation gift. It’s probably the most lavish and also the most useful gift they’ve ever given him. His plan, since he was a young child, was always to move out once he was legally an adult. Sakusa’s apartment is all too large for someone who lives alone, but he’s never alone long enough for loneliness to sink in. If not Hinata, then Komori - and by extension on some occasions, Suna - are usually over to visit. Sometimes, Natsu would drop in after school. And with Tokyo being the hometown of the Schweiden Adlers, he occasionally has Ushijima Wakatoshi over for dinner - there are some times that he’s accompanied by Hoshiumi and Kageyama too. Rarely, maybe once a month, twice if he’s lucky, either Ryota or Sayuri will visit, usually it's the latter, but never both at the same time.

Even when Sakusa is alone, he never feels lonely. In another life, one where he never grew up with Hinata Shouyou, he might have made friends with his loneliness. Still, Sakusa keeps himself busy with his day-to-day routine of training, studying, and cleaning that ‘feeling lonely’ never makes its way onto the schedule. 

Sakusa watches Bokuto in amusement, as the winger spiker dramatically serenades Akaashi with a love song on the karaoke machine, when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He takes it out and sees Natsu’s name pop up on screen.  
  


> H. NATSU: We’re coming up the elevator, Kiyo-nii! 

> S. KIYOOMI: He doesn’t suspect anything, does he?

> H. NATSU: Don’t think so, he just thinks we’re having a quiet dinner with you.

> S. KIYOOMI: Very good.

With Komori’s help, Sakusa gets everyone to hide behind or under or around whatever furnishing they can find. Getting them to hide is the easy part, getting them to be quiet is the challenge. It’s only when they can hear Hinata’s voice from the hallway outside of the front door that they’re rendered silent - with the occasional shushing and hushing. Then there’s a knock and Sakusa and Komori stand to go and open the door.

“Gotta say, Kiyoomi, I’m never ever gonna get tired of coming to your apartment. The aquarium in the lobby-”

“SURPRISE!” Everyone cheers when Sakusa flicks the lights on. Hinata jumps and almost falls backwards into Sakusa, causing everyone to laugh. It takes a moment for Hinata to settle. When he does, he goes around to each guest, thanking them for coming and engaging in small talk with them before moving onto the next person. Not that Sakusa is particularly religious, but he offers a silent prayer in his mind for Hinata. He could never talk to so many people at one time, his social battery would drain after three people.

Sakusa stands with Osamu in the kitchen. “Thanks for providing the food.”

“Yer the one paying,” Osamu reminds him as he finishes another rice ball, setting it on another plate to be shared and passed around. Then he washes his hands and wipes them dry on a towel. “I was already coming anyway and besides, I should really be thanking ya. Running a business is tough if no one is willing to hire ya.”

“Well I got the money to spare,” shrugs Sakusa. “Plus, there’s lots of people here. Pretty sure most of them will take a business card home and talk about you to their other friends and their coworkers. You’ll be swimming in bookings come summer, promise you.”

Osamu chuckles. “Yeah, I sure hope yer right abou’ that.”

“Oi ‘Samu! Let’s do our duet!” Atsumu calls out, waving two microphones in the air.

“If ya will kindly excuse me, I gotta go outsing my brother.” Sakusa doesn’t really understand how someone can ‘outsing’ someone. What does that mean? Does Osamu have to sing louder? Sing more on beat and on time than Atsumu? Then the twins sing and Sakusa understands. It’s all of that combined. It’s a matter of: Who can throw more of themselves into the song than the other?

The evening progresses and Sakusa just wants to go to bed, but can’t, not until everyone leaves. The party doesn’t appear to be ending anytime soon but Hinata looks happy and if he’s happy, then Sakusa has nothing to complain about. 

Music and alcohol breed unfounded confidence, so when Atsumu challenges Hinata, Bokuto and anyone else willing to participate in a push up contest, Sakusa knows he has to watch the disaster unfold. Suna seems to have a similar idea as he has his phone out, ready to film. If Atsumu embarasses himself, then maybe this party won’t be so bad after all. Atsumu, Hinata, and Lev start off strong, but the latter is eventually the first to drop out. After Lev, it’s Hinata. Then after Hinata, it’s Atsumu who went too hard too quickly. Then it’s a contest of endurance between Bokuto and Yaku. The latter loses by accident when Lev tries to pass by to get to the kitchen but ends up tripping over Yaku.

After that, Sakusa decides he needs some fresh air to help socially sober up. He walks up to the mezzanine floor of his double-height apartment and walks along the landing, passing his bedroom, the guest room, and the bathroom, before making it to the balcony doors at the end. Most people stay downstairs and those who come up to the second floor only come for the second bathroom or to get some space so Sakusa isn’t too bothered. He unlocks the balcony doors, sliding it open, then shut again when he’s outside.

Sometimes, Sakusa forgets how thick the walls and the glass of the windows are in his apartment. He forgets how noisy and bright Tokyo can be, especially at night. But there’s a strange sort of peace to the noise. Something comforting about the city lights twinkling in the dark of the night, something reassuring about the dull buzz of the traffic below. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the balcony isn’t very large. There’s enough space for a small fold-up table and two chairs and some potted plants (cacti and succulents since they’re low maintenance plants) but not much else. 

He leans his forearms against the balcony wall, looking out at the city below his apartment complex as he breathes in fresh air - well, as fresh as one can get in the middle of the capital city. Sakusa has a few moments alone with his own thoughts before he hears the door behind sliding open. He doesn’t turn around, knowing it’s one of two people: Hinata or Komori.

“Mind if I join you, Kiyoomi?”

Hinata.

“You never need to ask, Shouyou.” Then Hinata is at his side, the sides of their arms touching as Hinata leans his head onto Sakusa’s shoulder. Minutes of comfortable silence pass before Sakusa speaks up. “Why aren’t you at your party?”

“You weren’t there.”

Oh. _Oh._ Sakusa smiles despite himself. 

“Are you excited to go to Brazil?”

Sakusa wants to smack himself in the face. Is this what it’s really come down to? Small talk? And why did he have to ask the _one_ question concerning the _one_ topic that he doesn’t want to talk about? Especially as he knows the answer to it already. Of course Hinata’s excited. He’s had his things packed and ready for the past month. He’s waited and trained two years for Brazil and it’s only a week away. A week until Sakusa’s world flies to the other side of the earth.

“Honestly? I’m terrified,” Hinata chuckles nervously, his voice shaking. “I’m leaving everything and everyone I’ve ever known to basically start from scratch.”

“It’s not too late to back out, you know,” Sakusa tells him and he means it. There’s still time for Hinata to change his mind. “There’s no shame in it,” he adds.

Hinata smiles fondly at him. “If we did things your way, Kiyoomi, I would never leave your side.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“No it wouldn’t,” Hinata replies, “but I would never get stronger if I stayed.” There he goes again, talking about getting stronger and growing and evolving. Sakusa wonders if Hinata will ever be satisfied with his strength. He wonders if his voracious appetite will ever be sated.

“It always feels like I’m chasing after you,” he confesses quietly. Sakusa looks out at the city landscape in front of him, unaware of the way Hinata looks at him. “You’re always going somewhere I can’t follow. Just for once, I wish you would stay by my side.” The melancholy in his words does not escape Hinata.

“I’m doing all of this so I _can_ be by your side one day, Kiyoomi.”

“Why one day? Why not today?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think to stop them. Fuck. For a fleeting moment, Sakusa thinks of throwing himself over the balcony. At least his embarrassment will die as quickly as he will.

“K-Kiyoomi?” 

Sakusa faces Hinata and suddenly wishes he hadn’t. It has to be a crime for Hinata to look as beautiful as he does now. His clementine hair glows softly in the moonlight and the city lights reflect in his eyes, looking like stars. Looking at Hinata now, Sakusa feels his heart grow full. He has so much of Hinata in his heart, he wonders if there’s any of him left. Is this what it means to love?

Oh what the hell. He’s already halfway there. Never let it be said that Sakusa Kiyoomi left things half-finished. He only hopes that if Hinata doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, that he’ll be kind enough to let him down slowly. He reaches out and links their pinkies together one last time.

“I’m in love with you, Shouyou,” Sakusa tells him and he prays to whatever merciful deity watching them now that Hinata can feel the sincerity of his words. “I think I have always loved you. It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began.”

Hinata doesn’t say anything. In fact, Hinata doesn’t say anything for a long time and at this point, Sakusa wonders if Hinata even heard his confession. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the traffic below, combined with the music and noise coming from the party, was too loud. Maybe the balcony is too windy. Then Sakusa forces himself to stop overthinking. Hinata will never leave him wondering in silence, he just has to be patient. 

“I… I’m in love with you too, Kiyoomi,” Hinata confesses. His voice is so soft that Sakusa almost misses it. “There’s never been anyone else for me.”

Sakusa swallows hard as he looks deep into Hinata’s eyes, then drops his gaze to his lips. He looks back up at Hinata and takes a step closer, their height difference becoming more apparent as Sakusa leans over Hinata, forcing the younger man to look up at him. Sakusa wraps one arm around Hinata’s waist, pulling him closer while his other hand comes over his shoulder, his hand gently supporting the back of Hinata’s head. Hinata’s right arm overlaps Sakusa’s, his hand resting on his back while the other wraps around Sakusa’s shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” Sakusa asks.

“I would be disappointed if you didn’t after all that.”

Then they kiss, smiling and giggling to each as they do, like new lovers blissfully drunk on euphoria. This is the moment, Sakusa thinks, that makes it all worthwhile. All the years spent in loving Shouyou in silence culminates to this moment. Nothing could ruin the joy in his heart.

But then Hinata pulls away from Sakusa, regret written all over his face. 

Oh no. 

Please no. 

“We can’t,” he whispers.

Sakusa didn’t know that Hinata could break his heart with two words.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m leaving in a week.” Hinata scratches his head irritatedly, before he lets out a cry of frustration. “God, I wish we did this sooner or did this later, but not _now._ The timing… the timing couldn’t be worse.”

Sakusa understands. He really didn’t mean to confess now, a week before Hinata is meant to leave. In fact, he had meant to confess two years ago but never did. So truthfully, this confession is two years late. Then he remembers the story his grandmother told him about his grandfather. How he waited to confess and regretted it. And now here was Sakusa, falling into the same mistakes his grandfather made. Those who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it.

“I will wait for you,” Sakusa declares quietly.

That catches Hinata off-guard. Sakusa can see the mental stumble playing out in his brain. Then Hinata shakes his head. “No, I can’t ask you to wait for me.”

“You don’t have to ask. Shouyou, I’ve been waiting for twelve years, I can wait another two.”

“I don’t want you to wait for me.”

"Because you don't feel the same way?"

"Because I _do._ "

“Then stay with me,” Sakusa begs and it’s the first time he’s ever begged for anything. He would be a liar if he doesn’t say that a small part of him hopes that Hinata will change his mind about Brazil. “Please,” he adds, his voice breaking.

“You know I can’t.” It’s only now, by the light of the moon, can Sakusa see the glossiness of Hinata’s eyes. Then a tear spills over and then another. Hinata is in tears and this time, Sakusa is the one who caused it. He’s never been more disappointed in himself than now. 

“Shouyou…”

“I wish you never said anything,” Hinata says, choking in between his sobs. “How can I leave you now? Why are you making it harder for me to leave you?”

He steps towards Hinata and cups his face with his hands. His thumbs gently wipe the tears from his cheeks .“Then don’t leave me, stay here, stay with me,” Sakusa pleads in anguish.

In his hands, Hinata shakes his head. “I have to go to Brazil. It’s important to me.” He lowers Sakusa’s hands from his face. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe we’re just not meant to be yet- maybe we’re on different paths right now... maybe we’re just going different ways, I don’t know.” 

“If my path doesn’t include you, then I don’t want to follow it, Shouyou.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Hinata whispers and Sakusa knows then, in that moment, that he’s gone. 

Then Sakusa asks, “Why did you kiss me if you were just going to reject me?”

Hinata looks away in shame. “Because I’m selfish. I wanted to know, even just for a moment, what it's like to be loved by you.” Sakusa gently cups Hinata’s face and makes him face him again. “I do love you, Kiyoomi. But I can't love you right now.” It hurts. It hurts everywhere. It hurts most because Sakusa knows that Hinata didn’t just break his heart, but he broke his own heart too. 

He wordlessly pulls him in for a hug. Hinata buries his face in Sakusa’s chest, tears dampening his shirt, as he strokes Hinata’s hair affectionately. “You weren’t the only one who was selfish. I’m sorry that I asked you to stay,” he murmurs into the dark of the night.

They remain in each others’ arms for some time. And then Hinata pulls away from Sakusa one last time. He slides the balcony door open and half-steps into the doorway before he turns to face him. And for a moment, Sakusa thinks that Hinata will come back into his arms. That he’ll kiss Sakusa once again and tell him that he doesn’t care. That they’ll make it work somehow. That none of it is worth it without him.

“I’m sorry too.” Then he leaves Sakusa on the balcony alone.

It’s three in the morning and for the first time in twelve years, loneliness reintroduces itself to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really sorry  
> you can yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kouushu) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/omihina)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is where the explicit rating comes in!! if u want to skip over the smut, its start is indicated by the 😷🍊 emojis and ends when u see the volleyball emoji!!
> 
> also there’s some art of some scenes from ch1 and have added them so go check it out and also see the end notes to see the artists!! the sizing is mobile compatible (hopefully) but might come up small on desktop

#  **growing:**

###  **don't be afraid to cry, all living things require water to grow**

**october 2016  
** **sakusa, age twenty  
** **hinata, age twenty**

It’s easy to make the distinction between the seasons back in Tokyo. Each season has their own set of weather patterns and average temperatures. But not in Rio. In Rio, it’s warm all year around. It’s not an unwelcome change - Hinata always did like summer best - but the six months he’s spent so far in Rio feel like the longest summer he’s ever endured and he’s starting to miss the cool autumnal breezes and the colour changing leaves.

In the first months of his arrival in Rio, the days blurred together and Hinata could only differentiate between the days by looking at his work schedule and training programme. He quickly learns that to truly enjoy his limited time in Brazil, he has to do at least one thing different per week, even if it’s just exploring a new part of Rio that he’s never seen before. Or cooking a new dish that he’s never tried before.

And naturally, he does all the touristy things too, like taking photos in front of Christ the Redeemer and going to the Sugarloaf Mountain, but sometimes, with the leftover sponsor money from Kenma, Hinata treats himself to doing something a little more adventurous. One day, he visits Tijuca National Park and swims in the pools below the waterfalls. Another day, he does hang gliding over the city - so far, that’s the best thing he’s done other than volleyball.

Of course, Hinata’s homesick. He misses his family and his friends. He misses speaking Japanese and eating Japanese food that’s cooked by Japanese people. He misses the lights of Tokyo. But there are some days where he isn’t so homesick, days where Brazil feels like home. These are the days when Hinata watches a rich orange and red sunset sink into the horizon of the South Atlantic Sea and thinks that he wouldn’t mind watching it everyday. Days where he rides his bike along the coast of Ipanema Beach and feels the cool seaside breeze in his hair and face, freedom he’s craved for beating hard in his chest. 

Then he’ll see a man holding another man’s hand in public, their love open for the world to see, and Hinata is suddenly back in Tokyo, on a balcony, in the arms of a man whom he loves and who loves him back. And Hinata left him. He left a man who was ready to love him, all because he wanted to see the world and get stronger. And that man loved him enough to let him go. Maybe he really is selfish.

They still talk and that’s the most painful part, Hinata thinks. They both talk and act as if nothing happened between them, as if Hinata didn’t break both of their hearts that night. By rights, Sakusa had every reason to sever all ties to Hinata and yet, he still talks to him. He still listens to his sobs when he’s feeling homesick and listens to his daily anecdotes and stories about his life in Brazil. Sakusa is a lot kinder than people believe him to be. Maybe it would be better if they stopped talking to each other. At least that way, Sakusa could find someone worthy of him. 

“You could have tried a long distance relationship,” Pedro tells him one night after dinner. 

Hinata stands by the kitchen sink, washing dishes. He stills for a moment and then shakes his head. “We’re too busy. He’s in university right now and he plays collegiate volleyball. And I’m, well, I’m here training in beach volleyball and working two jobs.”

“Did he say that?”

“What?”

“That he’s too busy for a long distance relationship.”

Hinata doesn’t respond right away. Then he sighs. “No. I told him that we couldn’t. We both have dreams that just take us on different paths.”

“I’ve never really met any couple that has dreams that put them on the same paths. They either make it or break up,” Pedro says casually, shrugging before he stands up and walks over to the TV. He looks through his My Hero Academia recorded episodes for him and Hinata watch together. “You didn’t give Kiyoomi a chance to try. Just kind of took away his choice instead. You don’t strike me as someone who’s afraid so I don’t get why you didn’t try to make it work.”

Hinata doesn’t respond because he doesn’t quite understand it himself. It’s not like him to give up without trying at least once. Sometimes, he regrets his decision that night. Maybe if he had been a little braver, maybe if he had been a bit greedier, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so lonely on this side of the world. 

_No one chooses an easy dream, Shouyou, that’s why it’s called a dream._

Those were the words Sakusa once told him and Hinata reflects on them often during moments of self-doubt. Hinata isn’t one for religion, but he prays that it will all work out. All that he’s done, all that he’s invested, all that he’s sacrificed and endured, it’s all for the dream his eight-year old self had. To stand on the world stage with Sakusa at his side. Even if it means temporarily breaking both of their hearts now, it’s worth it if it means he can be a permanent fixture at Sakusa’s side, both off the court and on the court. For the cost of breaking both of their hearts, it has to be worth it. It _has_ to be.

🏐

Sakusa appreciates the routine in his life. To others, it’s monotonous, but to him, it’s serenity. Nothing brings peace to the mind better than preparation. In high school, he kept a loose routine because when one is friends with Hinata and Komori, one has to be prepared to adapt their schedule according to their friends’ impulses. Now that he’s in university, with no Hinata and Komori around, he controls the day in the palms of his hands. His average weekday tends to look like:

> **06:00** Wake up and go on a morning run - stretch if it's raining.
> 
> **06:35** Shower and get dressed.
> 
> **07:00** Make breakfast and prepare bag(s) for the day - if Facetiming Shouyou, then prepare bag(s) the night before, if meeting Kenma and Akaashi, then remember to bring own utensils for takeout, if there’s volleyball practice after classes, bring gym bag.
> 
> **08:00** Read and highlight today’s lecture and seminar outlines.
> 
> **08:30** Leave for university - Average ETA via driving: 22 minutes.
> 
> **09:00 - 17:00** University - Do the next day’s readings and start on assignments in between lectures and seminars.
> 
> **17:00** Dinner - Cook own dinner if home early, eat out if late.
> 
> **17:30 - 20:00** Volleyball practice - Length of practice liable to change, check in with Aran for any updates regarding practice and future matches.
> 
> **20:30** Evening yoga and free time.
> 
> **21:30** Light clean and prepare for bed.
> 
> **22:00** Sleep.

On weekends, the mornings are dedicated to personal exercise, reading, and house cleaning, the early afternoons for any uni work that he hasn’t yet completed, and the late afternoons and evenings for volleyball. Sakusa has always been good at keeping himself busy. Because if he stops being busy, then he has time to think, and if he has time to think, then he has time to think about Hinata, and if he thinks about Hinata, then his heart breaks all over again. 

Maybe his six year old self was right. Maybe the sun really is cruel and harsh. His sun may not have left burns on his skin but it did leave him with a charred heart. He wonders if there’s a preventative against heartbreak? Some sort of ointment perhaps? Or a kind of remedial pill? As his mother told him when he was thirteen, there’s no science to love. Perhaps that also means that there’s no science to healing from a heartbreak either. 

Sakusa has read about heartbreak before. He’s read all of the great tragedies and epic losses in literature. Because reading about it will prepare him for when it happens, right? Sakusa had never been so wrong before in his life. All the famous works of literature in the world could not prepare him for true heartbreak. 

It’s a sham, he thinks. The way writers romanticise a broken heart. There’s nothing beautiful or vaguely poetic about it. A broken heart is a Thursday at three in the morning, sitting on the kitchen floor, until your throat is raw from either the sake or the sobbing, and then picking yourself up and putting yourself into bed with an ache still pounding in your chest. A broken heart is not beautiful and Sakusa will punch the next writer who tries to tell him otherwise.

The worst part is that he has _no one_ he can turn to. No shoulder he can sob into. Not even Komori. No one knows. If anyone knew what happened that night in April, they would make some inspiring speech about how Sakusa shouldn’t be afraid, that he shouldn’t let things end like that between him and Hinata. But they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand. And Sakusa would rather deal with his own instead of having to listen to others who lean a little too much into the romanticism of novels, television shows, and films.

Komori doesn’t know. If he knew, then he’d be forced to intervene and Sakusa doesn’t want that. Komori remains blissfully ignorant of what transpired that night but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t sense that something’s slightly off. Like a photo frame that isn’t _quite_ level and even.

“So what happened between you and Shou-chan?” Komori asked him one day as Sakusa was cooking dinner. He sat on a stool by the kitchen island, swinging his legs and resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on the surface. Music from Sakusa’s bluetooth speaker played softly in the background. At this time, Hinata had already left for Brazil. He was in his third month of living in Rio. “And don’t tell me nothing happened, I can see through your bullshit.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sakusa replied bluntly as he sauted the vegetables in the pan.

“The vibe is different between you two when we facetime.”

“What the fuck do you mean by the ‘vibe’?” Sakusa knew exactly what Komori meant but he wasn’t about to let him know that. Damn Komori and his perceptiveness. If only that perception was reserved for the court, rather than becoming a transferable skill.

Komori waved his hands as if it’d help Sakusa understand. “You know, the _vibe_.” Sakusa turned around and turned the volume of his music speaker up. “Oi! Listen to me!”

“I’ll start listening when you start speaking Japanese, not nonsense.”

Komori hopped off his stool to walk over to the speaker to turn it off. “Okay fine, when was the last time you called Shou-chan? Or even texted him?”

“Called him last Sunday, texted him this morning,” Sakusa answered immediately. It’s sad really, the way he keeps track of when he last spoke to and texted Hinata. He’s a masochist like that. “You’re reading into things too much, Motoya.”

His cousin narrowed his eyes, disbelieving but having no foundation to fall back upon. Komori relented. “Fine. If you say nothing happened between you two, then I’ll believe you.” And that was that.

It frustrates Sakusa to hide it from Komori. But seeing as Hinata has had plenty of opportunities to tell him and didn’t, Sakusa figures that he doesn’t intend on letting Komori know anytime soon, if at all. Good. Sakusa prefers it this way, even if it frustrates him. He doesn’t want Komori to have to choose between them, only because he knows what his cousin’s choice would be. 

Monday comes and he and Akaashi walk into one of the campus’ common areas after a 9am lecture on the forms and contexts of literature.

“Wow, you look great, Kozume-kun, I didn’t recognise you without your eye bags and a coffee in your hand at this time in the morning.”

“Nice to see you too, Akaashi,” Kenma greets, his eyes never leaving his laptop screen as Akaashi pulls a chair out next to him while Sakusa sits on the other side of the table.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here. You’re never here before noon,” Sakusa points out as he takes his MacBook out of its sleeve and places it on the table. Then he takes out a pair of headphones, a protein bar, and his notebook and pen, placing them neatly on the side before he sets his bag down on the empty chair next to him. 

“Had a group presentation,” Kenma answers with a shrug. “Didn’t have to do anything. I made the entire presentation, all everyone else had to do was read the script I wrote out.” 

Akaashi narrows his eyes skeptically at Sakusa who begins to type. “I thought you finished your essay already? We don’t have any due for the rest of the week.”

Sakusa doesn’t look up, keeping his eyes fixed on the Google Document open in front of him. “I have. I submitted it a week before the deadline.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Another assignment.”

“Did you forget you had another one due?” Kenma seems doubtful, knowing that Sakusa is quite meticulous about his schedule and deadlines. It’s unlike him to forget he has an assignment due. Kenma’s been to Sakusa’s apartment, he’s seen the large monthly calendar spread hanging on the wall by the dining table and the daily routine printed and posted next to the front door. There’s no way he could have forgotten so easily.

“Is this the gender and sexuality essay?” Akaashi asked. “That’s due next month.”

“I wanted to get it out of the way.”

Kenma snorts. “I would hate you if you were in my course. I don’t know how you deal with it, Akaashi.”

“Good thing we’re studying different things then,” Sakusa replies.

Kenma hums in agreement before devoting the rest of his attention back to the game on his laptop. Sakusa has known Akaashi since middle school, and they’ve known Kenma since high school, through volleyball. Then through Hinata, they occasionally hung out in the same social circles. But it wasn’t until they coincidentally stood next to each other during Waseda University’s Entrance Ceremony that their friendship as a trio truly began.

They’re in different courses, with Kenma studying Business and Sakusa and Akaashi studying Literature, but it doesn’t stop them from studying together and hanging out when they’re all on campus. If they’re all in on the same day, they usually spend time in between lectures and seminars together, like today. Despite Sakusa’s and Kenma’s popularity in their respective fields - gaming and volleyball - they’re both usually seen with Akaashi or they keep to themselves.

Akaashi closes the lid of his laptop and pushes his chair out. “I’m gonna go get some boba tea, do either of you want anything?”

“Hazelnut latte, extra shot,” is Sakusa’s order.

“Caramel mocha,” is Kenma’s.

Akaashi rolls his eyes fondly. “I told you I didn’t recognise you without a coffee in your hand. Just missing the eye bags.”

“Trust me, there will be eye bags at the end of this level,” Kenma tells him, earning a chuckle from Akaashi as he walks off and a small smile from Sakusa from behind his mask.

Sakusa will never openly admit it to them, but he’s certain that they both know how grateful he is for their friendships. If he hadn’t befriended Kenma or Akaashi, he would spend most of his free time on campus alone and after twelve years of always having people at his side, Sakusa forgot what it was like to enjoy being by himself again. With Hinata in Brazil and with Komori attending Chuo University studying Sports Development, Sakusa thought he would finally get some peace and quiet. Never did he think that he would miss the comfortable noise that friendships bring. 

Not that Akaashi or Kenma are particularly noisy. In fact, compared to Hinata and Komori, they’re mute. But there’s comfort and reassurance in their quiet company. 

Akaashi and Kenma spend most of their Saturdays at Sakusa’s apartment, but it’s not necessarily to actively spend time together. Rather, to do their own things in a quiet (and clean) environment. Akaashi lives in a shared student dormitory and Saturdays are usually when his roommates invite their friends and significant other over, and he can’t get any work done, so he occupies Sakusa’s dining room table in order to get some assignments and readings done. 

For Kenma, he spends his Saturdays at Sakusa’s for the company, or rather, to keep him and Akaashi company and to make sure they don’t overdo things. Kenma is the one who reminds them that they should take breaks every now and then. Sometimes, he forces them to play a round of Super Smash Bros so they can relax before going back to whatever they were doing before.

Knowing that Sakusa has people to be quiet with makes all the difference. 

“Y’know, I’ve always wondered what made ya decide to go to university instead of going pro,” Aran asks him one day as they cool down from practice. They’re amongst the last ones left in the gymnasium. “I mean, ya must’ve had loads of offers from teams.”

Sakusa hums. “There were some,” he replies, downplaying the amount he actually received. In his second year of high school, he turned down every invitation for an interview, wanting nothing more than to focus on what he already has. “I told them they could find me in a few years after I finished university.”

“But why?” Aran asks, genuinely curious. 

“It’s the logical thing to do,” Sakusa replies matter-of-factly. He extends his right leg and presses his left foot into his right thigh, then raises his arms overhead before folding forward, placing his hands on the floor. He holds this stretch for one minute. “I want to have a backup plan when I retire from volleyball.”

“ _When_ you retire? Not _if?”_

“A professional athlete doesn’t have the longest career lifespan, maybe ten or even twenty years before they retire. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to play until I choose to retire, preferably on my last good season. And if I’m not lucky, then an injury takes me out of the game for good.” Sakusa shifts and repeats his stretches with the opposite leg.

“But why literature?”

That question gives Sakusa reason to pause. He doesn’t really know why he chose literature either. It’s not as if literature was the only subject he was good at in school. In fact, Sakusa excelled in quite a lot of his classes. But literature is a crutch he’s always leaned on since he was a child to escape the lonely realities of his life. He didn’t have friends, but he had fictional characters whom he empathised with. Literature presented to Sakusa worlds without end, worlds he wouldn’t be so alone in. 

“I always liked books. Never really liked anything else. Guess it just made sense at the time.” Then he decides to turn the question back on Aran. “Why are you studying Natural Sciences?”

“I thought the same thing, about a backup plan. The difference is, I didn’t have the same luxury that you had about choosing whether to go to university or to go pro,” Aran replies as he pushes himself to sit back up. “Sure, I was the ace of my team, and we went to Nationals every year, but almost everyone forgets about me when you or Ushijima-san, or Kiryuu-san were in the picture.” He uses a towel to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck. “I was always told that I was _so close_ to being one of the top three aces but I was never enough. Bokuto-san and I had that in common.”

Sakusa doesn’t react. He can’t tell if that’s envy in Aran’s voice or something else. The Kansai-ben makes it difficult to understand his intonation. At any rate, what is Sakusa supposed to say? _Oh, I’m so very sorry that I was one of the top three aces and you weren’t?_ No, Sakusa is not as insensitive as everyone believes him to be. Still, he wonders what can be said in this situation. It’s not as if he asked or even wanted to be labelled amongst the best. But he won’t pretend that he’s not proud of his achievements. 

“Did you hate me for it?” Is the question he ends up asking.

Aran turns to look at him, a warm smile on his face. “Nah, I mean, you were a pain in the ass to play against. But to be honest, I think I rather admired ya. You made it look so effortless. In fact, ya still do. Who knew that I’d end up playing with you."

Sakusa finds himself feeling amused about the irony in that. His effortless play, yet Itachiyama’s banner read: _Effort._

“Anyways, I went to university to also make a name for myself, so I can compete on the same level with others who are better than me,” Aran adds on. He dries his hands on a fresh towel before extending a hand to Sakusa to help him up. 

“Sounds like someone I know,” Sakusa mumbles under his breath as he’s pulled to his feet.

“How are you holding up with that, by the way? The long distance between you and Hinata?” Aran asks as they head to the changing rooms together. 

Sakusa almost freezes mid-step, but Aran seems to notice the slight change in his facial expression. Shit. Sakusa really wishes he had his mask right now. Why is he cursed to have perceptive friends? Aran raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say, “I see you,” but is kind enough not to repeat his question, knowing full well that Sakusa heard him. He waits patiently for Sakusa’s answer.

Really, what is Sakusa supposed to say? That he’s some sort of masochist because talking to Hinata, as if nothing happened between them, fucking hurts but _not_ talking to Hinata is worse? That he doesn’t spend some days wishing that he confessed his feelings sooner, wishing that he spoke first? That if he confessed that weekend he returned home from Okinawa, he might’ve openly loved Hinata for the past two and a half years. That his strict daily routine is one of the few things that keep him from tearing his hair out?

No, Sakusa can’t say any of that. He can’t because no one knows about what transpired that night six months ago. He must suffer this alone. Maybe he really is some sort of masochist.

“Could be better, could be worse,” he finally answers, after they finish getting dressed. Aran doesn’t miss the evasive nature of his response but he doesn’t press further. They walk to the lobby of the sports center.

“Well, y’know you’ve got friends who you can talk to,” he says. Then Aran smiles and Sakusa is reminded of his middle school captain, Kamiya. Aran is kind and caring towards his friends and teammates, but his gentle nature is tempered with a fierce determination that demands respect. It’s no wonder why he’s the captain of Waseda’s VBC. He points his thumb at himself. “I’d like to think that I’m one of those friends.”

Sakusa allows a small smile to slip through and he nods once. “You are, Aran-san.”

Aran smiles and it’s one of those smiles that reach his eyes. “Good to hear it, Sakusa-kun.” 

“Am I one of those friends, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa grimaces behind his mask and he glares at the Black Jackals’ rookie setter approaching them. “Unfortunately,” he says, but not without gagging a little. 

“I’ll take it!” Atsumu says with a shit-eating grin. Then he turns to his boyfriend, looping his arm through Aran’s. “Alright, well have a goodnight, Omi-kun! I need to make the most out of my few days off.” Sakusa nods at them once, as a goodbye, and the couple walk away, quickly immersing themselves in fond conversation.

Sakusa watches as Aran laughs at something Atsumu said. It’s times like these that Sakusa really doesn’t understand how someone with such a shitty and foul personality like Miya Atsumu ended up with the wonderful, amazing, even perfect Ojiro Aran. But, he supposes he’s not really one to talk. Afterall, he’s the moon who had the audacity to fall in love with the sun. Sakusa learns that people don’t get a say in who they love. Sometimes, people fall for the complete antithesis of everything they thought they were looking for.

“Sakusa.” He turns at the sound of his own name and sees Kenma approaching him.

“Were you waiting long?” Sakusa asks, and to that, Kenma shakes his head. Then the two of them silently walk out of the sports center, the shorter man following Sakusa to where he parked his car. 

Some days, Kenma stays on campus to get work done and if he’s still there by the time Sakusa finishes practice, he gets a lift home. And Kenma is a nice passenger. He doesn’t speak much - his focus usually on the handheld game console in front of him - and doesn’t object to whatever Sakusa listens to as he drives. Sometimes they’ll chat, but that’s usually if Sakusa is also taking Akaashi home, since he’s the one that generally initiates the conversation between the three of them.

Today, however, Kenma doesn’t play on his console, or even on his phone. He just stares out of the window, watching Tokyo pass by. It’s a little unnerving for some reason. And as Sakusa is in the middle of thinking up how to say something, Kenma speaks up.

“He misses you too, y’know.”

Sakusa doesn’t have to ask whom Kenma is referring to. He knows. But he still asks. “Who are you talking about?”

“Shouyou.”

Sakusa hums but doesn’t say anything else. 

“You don’t have to keep talking to him. Not if it’s affecting you like this.” Sakusa’s knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. He doesn’t respond. “I don’t know what happened between you both, but _something_ happened. You’re my friend too and you’re…” Kenma struggles and he grunts in frustration at his incapability to convey what he means. “You’re hurting. A lot. You think you’re hiding it well but you’re not great at it. You’re too expressive.”

A scowl works its way onto Sakusa’s face, but it’s obscured by his mask. This is one of the reasons he wears a mask. Not only will it protect him from bacteria and viruses, but also from people deciphering his true emotions. Though apparently, he’s not as discreet as he thinks he is.

“Shouyou’s hurting too. But he’s a little better than you are at hiding it. Not that much better though. He just hides his through smiles and laughter.”

“I can’t just stop talking to him, Kenma,” says Sakusa, then sighs. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand. It doesn’t even have to be me. Just talk to someone. _Anyone._ Whether it’s Komori, or me, or Akaashi, just talk to someone about whatever it is you’re going through.”

“I can’t. It’s not that simple.”

“Or maybe you’re just overcomplicating it.”

The stalemate silence fills the stationary car. Sakusa watches the red traffic lights ahead, waiting for them to change colours. Then he relaxes his grip on the steering wheel.

“I appreciate your concern, Kenma,” he says quietly. Sakusa isn’t used to this. This… this care from others who aren’t Hinata or Komori. He’s not used to the concept of having friends. Sakusa never had a friend before. Not ever. Not until Hinata. And now he counts the names of all his friends on both hands. “It’s just not something I can talk about yet.”

“Yet? Does that mean you will talk about it soon?”

Sakusa contemplates for a moment and when the traffic lights turn green, he has his answer. “Eventually,” is his one-word reply.

Kenma leans back in his seat and takes out his console. “That’s good enough for me. Tell us in your own time. We’ll be waiting and while we do, we’ll help you in whatever way we can.”

“We?”

“Your friends.”

Sakusa smiles and for the first time in a while, he feels his heart is a little lighter than it felt this morning when he woke up.

**july 2017  
** **sakusa, age twenty-one  
** **hinata, age twenty-one**

“Really? Nothin’?”

Sakusa stares blankly at Atsumu and Bokuto, unimpressed by their attempt to scare him. Atsumu has fake blood splattered randomly on his face whilst holding a flashlight under his chin. Bokuto is also painted with fake blood, but he wears a fake axe in his head. How juvenile.

“If you really wanted to scare me, you should have dressed up as a cockroach,” says Sakusa, pushing past the two, pulling his luggage with him into the Jackals’ dormitory. He turns around and sees Atsumu typing into his phone with an evil grin on his face. Shit. Maybe Sakusa shouldn’t have mentioned dressing up as a cockroach. He makes a mental note to install a lock on his bedroom door later.

“That’s so unfair! Tsum-Tsum scared the shit out of me when I joined last year!” Bokuto says, pouting as he throws himself onto the sofa in the communal living room. Sakusa tries not to wince at the fake blood splatters he gets on the carpet. 

“Only because Oliver scared me the year before!” Atsumu cries out in his defence. “He didn’t have to do anything, he just stood there like some sort of unmoving giant. Reminds me of Sachirou-kun.”

Bokuto nods sympathetically. “Yes, you are quite easy to scare, Tsum-Tsum.” That earns a small laugh from Sakusa that doesn’t go unnoticed by his new roommates. Bokuto pumps his fist victoriously in the air while Atsumu’s jaw drops in shock. “Hey hey hey! I made Sakusa laugh!”

“Yeah, at my expense, Bokkun!”

So this will be Sakusa’s life for the next four years. He looks at Bokuto and Atsumu, thankful that they’re too distracted by their own bickering conversation to see the fond expression on Sakusa’s face. This won’t be so bad after all. Sakusa misses the noise. 

He claps his hands together. “Now that I’m moving in, we’re going to have to set some ground rules. First…”

By the next morning, Atsumu had already broken three of the rules Sakusa had laid down and had to put three hundred yen into the jar, a hundred for each rule broken.

**august 2017**

There’s not many places that Sakusa enjoys going out to. But he likes bookshops. And he likes coffee shops. But after moving to Osaka, he lost his usual Friday afternoon retreat. One day after practice, Bokuto tells him about this bookshop cafe that he took Akaashi to when he visited. It just so happens to be on the way home for Sakusa and so he can’t help but want to go see it for himself. 

Osaru Coffee. Sakusa had his doubts about a bookshop cafe named Monkey Coffee. That, combined with Bokuto’s occasional childlike tendencies, must mean that it’s not the most sophisticated of establishments. Oh how wrong Sakusa was to doubt his friend. 

Yes, there’s quite a lot of monkey paraphernalia but none of it is tacky and it’s decorated in a tasteful way that Sakusa considers aesthetically pleasing. It’s a small space, only able to seat eleven people at a time and offers seating for single-party customers, of which Sakusa is grateful. 

The walls of the main area are lined with floor to ceiling wooden, square bookshelves, filled with books, canvases, and decorative figurines and ceramics. Indoor plants furnish what little space is left, bringing the outdoors indoors for an intimate jungle-esque vibe. As all of the windows are south-facing, sunlight floods the room for the most part of the day, giving it a beautiful golden hue. 

To no surprise, Osaru Coffee is quite popular and once, on his way to the grocery store, Sakusa saw people lined up outside its doors, patiently waiting for their turn to sit in the cafe and enjoy some coffee and cake. That’s why Sakusa makes it a point to visit during quiet business hours. On weekdays, it’s in the afternoon after lunch but before five o’clock when most finish work and on Saturday, it’s anytime after six in the evening.

Sakusa visits the cafe whenever he needs a break from Atsumu and Bokuto - which is often. But today, he’s chosen the coffee shop as a place to meet his mother, who has come down from Tokyo to visit him. As he enters, the good-natured owner greets him warmly, recognising him as a regular customer. 

“Ah, Sakusa-san, good to see you again. How’s practice?”

“Good to see you too, Matsumoto-san,” replies Sakusa, with a polite nod of his head. “Practice is going well. One latte please.”

Matsumoto nods and starts to make the coffee whilst Sakusa pays. Matsumoto is a man in his mid-thirties, has a slim build and thick black hair, and always wears a flat cap. “You know, I started watching the V.League matches because you told me you’re a professional volleyball player but you’re not even in any of the matches!”

“I haven’t had my debut game yet, Matsumoto-san,” Sakusa explains as he unhooks the mask loops from his ears. “I only signed two months ago and moved here a month ago,” he reminds him.

Matsumoto smiles warmly at him and carefully slides the coffee across the counter. “Well, tell me when you do debut. I’ll be watching!”

Sakusa nods his head gratefully, for both the coffee and the support, before taking his coffee and sitting in his usual spot, in the far corner where the two walls of bookshelves meet, the light of the sunset enveloping the cafe in a warm glow. His mother isn’t due to arrive for another fifteen minutes and so he spends that time continuing where he left off in his book.

“Kiyoomi?” Sakusa looks up from his book and sees his mother approaching him. It’s been at least three months since Sakusa last saw his mother but she’s never looked more different than now. There’s a lightness in her footsteps. Like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

“ _Okaasan._ ” He sets his book down and stands to his feet, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Were you waiting long?” He shakes his head. “Ah, that’s good.”

“Would you like a drink?” He asks. 

Sayuri looks taken aback by the offer but nods. “Just a mocha, thank you.”

“I’ll order while you take a seat.”

Five minutes later, they sit opposite each other, coffees in hands, unsure of what to say or how to begin a conversation. It’s sad, Sakusa thinks, how neither of them can talk to each other easily. If Aika-san or Ryuji-san visited him, Sakusa would know what to converse about. Right, small talk it is then.

“How was your journey-”

“Your father and I are getting a divorce,” she blurts out. Then Sayuri’s eyes grow wide and she quickly covers her mouth with her hand, as if she’s shocked by her own news. Sakusa doesn’t react. This news doesn’t stir up any feelings of sadness or anger, but rather one of relief.

“That’s good,” is what he says, much to his mother’s surprise.

She lowers her hand from her mouth. “You’re not upset…?”

Sakusa leans back against his chair, the leather padding cushioning him. “Should I be?” He asks. She doesn’t respond. “If you ask me, you and _otosan_ should have divorced years ago. Neither of you were happy.”

“We were once,” Sayuri says quietly, before taking a sip of her coffee. Sakusa doesn’t miss the way the colour of her eyes dulled sadly as she replied. 

“Hard to believe that,” he responds. He ignores the way his mother flinches at his words. “Growing up, I never saw you two in the same room for longer than twenty minutes, let alone hug or kiss or show any sort of affection.”

“I know,” she whispers. Sayuri lowers her head, as if in shame. “But we were in love once. We weren’t so different from my brother and his wife.”

“So what changed?” Sakusa asks. He opens his mouth to ask another question, but hesitates. What if he doesn’t want to know the answer? What if it’s ignorance that protects him? No, Sakusa can’t bear never knowing the truth. “Was it me? Did I… Did I ruin things between you and _otosan_?” He can’t help the way his voice breaks at the end of his sentence.

Sayuri looks back up, her eyes wide, as if she can’t believe that Sakusa would even consider that. But it’s not unheard of. 

Growing up, Sakusa heard stories and rumours about children who were born to ‘save’ the parents’ crumbling marriage and these tended to be children who were born much later than their siblings. Considering how he is the youngest of his siblings, with nine years between him and the next youngest, it’s understandable how he came to this conclusion as a child. As an adult now, he realises how ethically wrong it is to place the immense weight of a marriage on an innocent child who didn’t ask to be born.

“No, Kiyoomi, you never ruined anything,” Sayuri breathes. She reaches out across the table and lightly holds her son’s hand in reassurance. He fights against his reflexes to pull his hand back. “It’s not your fault. None of it was fault. It was your father and I. We failed you. We failed all of our children.”

Her eyes are glossed over with tears. She wipes them with a handkerchief.

“We wanted to give you everything we never had as children. We wanted to give you a big house with all the toys you could want. We wanted to give you the world.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I’m not offering it as one. It’s an explanation, not an excuse.” Sayuri drinks more of her coffee and sighs. “I know now that all of the money in the world could never buy you what you truly needed.”

“And what did I need?” Sakusa asks.

“Time. You needed our time and we weren’t willing to give it to you.” She loosens her hold on Sakusa’s hand and brings it back to her lap, anxiously fiddling her fingers together. “We could have taken more time off work - I mean, we could afford it - and went to festivals with you, my brother’s family, and Hinata-kun’s family. We could have attended your volleyball games. I hear you’re really good.”

“Well I was named the MVP at the National Collegiate Championship but sure, I’m just _really good_.” Sakusa doesn’t mean to sound so venomous but his mother still flinches at his words. He didn’t work hard for thirteen years to only be classed as ‘really good.’

“I know,” Sayuri says in a quiet voice. She tucks a lock of her black hair behind her ear as she lifts her head to look at her son in the eyes. “And I’m really proud of you. Though I don’t think my words mean much to you anymore, if they ever did.”

Sakusa doesn’t reply right away, neither confirming nor denying her statement. Instead he finishes the rest of his coffee and sits back. They remain in silence for some time until he speaks up. “You didn’t answer my previous question.”

“Which was?”

“What changed between you and _otosan_? If it wasn’t me, what happened?”

Sayuri takes a couple of moments to think, stirring her mocha with a teaspoon as she does. “When you love someone, there’s always a tiny part of you that’s terrified that you’re going to lose them one day. And I think your father is so scared of that becoming a reality that he stops himself from feeling anything at all.”

Sakusa says nothing. How could he? The reality that his father feared so much came true for him. 

“But you have to let the people you love know that you love them, even if it causes you a great deal of pain.”

“It’s awful,” Sakusa hisses, turning his head away and shutting his eyes. What was he given for telling Shouyou that he loved him? A great deal of pain indeed. “I’ve tried it and what good did it do for me? Nothing. Why should I?”

Sayuri reaches out and cups her son’s face. If he wasn’t so agitated right now, he would have repelled from her. As she gently strokes his cheek with her thumb, he feels something warm stir up inside his chest. A kind of comfort and reassurance. Is this a mother’s touch? She gently turns his head to face her again. He doesn’t realise he’s crying until she wipes a tear from his cheek with her thumb.

“Because you’re alive,” she says softly.

Then she drops her hand from his cheek and pulls out a tissue from her shoulder bag, handing it to Kiyoomi which he gratefully accepts. Sayuri reaches back into her bag and pulls out a medium, leather-bound photo album. She sets it down on the table and slides it across to Sakusa. He stares at it blankly before looking up at his mother for an explanation.

“I’ve never been a great mother, or even a good one,” Sayuri says matter-of-factly. “And though I was barely a part of your life, the least I could do was keep a record of it.”

Out of curiosity, Sakusa opens the first page of the album. The first photo he sees is a baby in a bath. He holds a scoop of bubbles in his hands and his cheeks are sunken in with his lips puckered, as if he’s about to blow the bubbles away. There’s no doubt that it’s him. It’s the thick black curls and the two moles on his forehead that give it away. 

Sakusa flicks through the pages, travelling through the early years of his life. It doesn’t escape his notice how little his siblings and father feature in the photographs except for the national holidays.

There’s even some photos of him and Komori, and since these photos were from before they truly became friends, they both looked as if they wanted to be anywhere other than where they were. 

Sakusa turns the page and his hand stills at the photo that stares up at him. It’s the first photo with him and Hinata, from when they were eight years old. Under Hinata’s chibi bird blanket, he and Sakusa are snuggled together, their pinkies overlapped in a promise made in their dreams. They were so small and young then. Eight years old and ready to take on the world together. If only it were as simple as that. His fingers gently trace the photo with nostalgic fondness and longing.

Then there were a lot of photos of Sakusa, Hinata, and Komori in the following years. Especially Sakusa and Hinata. Playing together. Watching movies. Reading books. Cooking and baking. Cleaning together - Sakusa chuckles at those ones. Even photos of them napping together, their small limbs all tangled up. 

There’s photos of the three of them proudly wearing their Dosho Middle volleyball uniform. Sakusa stands in the center with a weak half-smile while Hinata is behind him, slightly to the side, in a superhero-like pose. He smiles brightly while he holds the volleyball with his arms outstretched. Behind Hinata is Komori who follows his lead but on Sakusa’s other side, grinning as he throws up two peace signs with his hands.

The next pages have several newspaper and magazine clippings of Sakusa, when he was featured in Monthly Volleyball as an upcoming ace. So maybe his mother never watched his games, but she knew that he was more than just _really good_. That’s something at least. As he continues through the album, he realises how well documented it is. Every photo has a small description next to it, with the exact date (or approximate) with it. To the best of her abilities, Sayuri has kept the album as chronologically accurate as possible. Even the photographs that he and Hinata took at the Skytree for his sixteenth birthday somehow make it in. 

Next are his graduation photos and the magazine spread the week after Waseda University won the National Collegiate Championship, with Sakusa and Aran holding up the trophy together triumphantly. The most recent entries are screenshotted announcement posts from various MSBY Black Jackals’ social media accounts, when it was revealed that Sakusa joined the team as a rookie.

There are still some pages left in the album. Not a lot, but enough for about fourteen photos until the album is full. Sakusa closes it and looks up at his mother. “Is this supposed to absolve you?”

“It doesn’t. I know it doesn’t,” she answers. She looks into his dark brown, almost black, eyes. Eyes he inherited from her. “I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for being absent in your life. But I would like to be a part of it now, if you’ll let me.”

A little voice in the back of Sakusa’s mind is telling him to let her live with her guilt. To let her suffer with his absence alone just as he did with hers. And maybe, if he were as cruel as people think him to be, he might. 

But there’s something rather telling about the way his mother came all the way down to Osaka to tell him about the divorce and to make amends. His father isn’t here, he hasn’t spoken to him in months. The last time was when he graduated in March and even then that was just a mere congratulatory phone call. Whereas his mother actually turned up for the ceremony. For all her faults, Sakusa can sense nothing performative or disingenuous about her. Her efforts are sincere.

“I’d like you to be a part of it too.”

Sayuri looks at him, her eyes shiny with tears. “Do you mean it? Truly?”

Sakusa nods once. “Truly.”

“You won’t regret it, Kiyoomi. I promise.”

They spend the next hour conversing amicably - the beginnings of repairing a relationship - and eating cheesecake that Sakusa orders for them. They leave together thirty minutes before the cafe is due to close, waving goodbye and thanking Matsumoto for his kind service. Sakusa then insists on driving his mother back to her hotel instead of having her walk the streets of Osaka alone at night. 

When he pulls up in front of the hotel, Sayuri stays seated on the passenger’s side a little longer. She then turns to look at her son with a warm smile. “I’m really glad to have spent the evening with you, Kiyoomi. I’ll be sad to leave tomorrow.”

“When do you leave?”

“My train is scheduled for three thirty in the afternoon.”

“Would you like to have an early lunch with me tomorrow before you return to Tokyo?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll collect you tomorrow morning at ten forty-five.” Sakusa presses a button on the dashboard. There’s a click, an indication that the car doors are unlocked, but Sayuri makes no move to leave yet. “ _Okaasan_? Is something wrong?”

“Don’t make the same mistakes your father and grandfather made,” she tells him softly. Sakusa’s eyes widen. How does she know about his grandfather? Did _oba-chan_ tell her daughter-in-law about him?

Sayuri continues. “You have to let the people you love know that you love them, even if it causes you a great deal of pain, even if you’ve already told them, even if they don’t feel the same.” She looks at him directly in the eyes. “And especially if they feel the same. People need to know they’re loved, otherwise they start to think themselves unlovable.” And with the way she talks, Sakusa can tell that the last sentence comes from experience. “It’s all you can do. Love, care deeply and widely for those around you, pay proper attention to them, today, tomorrow, and all the way up to your last day. And if you’re lucky, you can go out at any time and be satisfied because you were unafraid to love again.”

That night, when Sakusa returns to his room, he searches up flights to Brazil.

**october 2017**

Romantic movies make spontaneous acts of love seem easier to pull off than they actually are.

As much as Sakusa would love to suddenly ditch practice for two weeks to jet off to the other side of the world, he can’t. As a rookie, he doesn’t get the same treatment and leniency as the other seasoned players do and so has to do things by the book until he’s proven himself reliable. The only reason Sakusa is able to take any time off at all before the V.League season starts is because Coach Foster doesn’t plan on debuting him until midway through the season. 

And he doesn’t get two weeks, he gets one, and really, Sakusa is lucky to get even that much time off. 

“Can you take me to this address?” Sakusa asks, speaking in English, showing the Brazilian taxi driver Hinata’s address. It’s written on a piece of paper beforehand in preparation for the language barrier he was bound to face. Sakusa hopes he can scrape by on the semi-fluency of his English until he meets Hinata. The taxi driver says something in Portuguese that Sakusa takes as a yes, since he’s nodding for him to put his luggage in the back of the car and to get in.

As he’s driven through the city, Sakusa can understand why Hinata has fallen in love with Brazil. Rio breathes life in a different way to Tokyo. They’re both dynamic and colourful cities, but Rio has a certain liberating energy that Tokyo lacks. The colours here are brighter, more vibrant, and the people more so. There’s smiles and laughter and most surprisingly, music. Whether it’s a street performer or music being played from bars, there’s always some form of music playing. 

It’s as if the city was handmade for Hinata Shouyou.

When he arrives in front of Hinata’s apartment complex, his phone rings unexpectedly. He takes it out and sees Komori’s name and face light up on his screen, then narrows his eyes at the phone. It’s just past noon on a Sunday in Brazil, meaning that it’s just past midnight on Monday in Japan. Komori is a half a day ahead of him. 

He slides his thumb across the screen, accepting the call.

“ _Kiyo-chan! Was I supposed to find out from Rintarou who found out from Atsumu-kun that you’re in Brazil?! The season starts in less than a month, I can’t believe-_ ” Sakusa momentarily pulls the phone away from his ear, not used to Komori immediately yelling at him as a greeting. Then he presses it back against his ear. “ _-Why the fuck didn’t you take me with you?! You’re not the only one who misses Shou-chan, I want to see him too!_ ”

“Motoya, I’m...” Sakusa hesitates. He takes a moment to collect himself. “I’m going to confess to Shouyou.”

“ _Wait really? Holy shit! Rintarou! He went all the way to Brazil to confess to Shou-chan!_ ” Sakusa doesn’t hear Suna’s response but he figures it’s something along the lines of ‘about fucking time’ because he can hear Motoya laugh as he says, “ _Yeah I know. It only took him thirteen years to confess_.” Well, actually twelve, but Komori doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m gonna go now, you know, things to do, Hinata to confess to, bye.”

“ _WAIT! Kiyo-chan don’t hang-_ ” Sakusa presses the red button on screen, effectively cutting Komori off. He’ll apologise to him later. Sakusa has bigger things on his mind right now and unless Komori flies to Brazil himself, he’s on the other side of the world so his cousin is his lowest priority right now.

After entering the complex and walking up a couple flights of stairs, Sakusa stands in front of the apartment door, hand closed in a loose fist, raised and ready to knock. He swallows hard. This shouldn’t be so hard. He’s on the last corner of this hypothetical marathon. He only needs to knock on the door. _Don’t leave this unfinished,_ he tells himself sternly. 

“Posso ajudar? O que você está fazendo na frente do meu apartamento?” Sakusa’s eyes grow wide. He slowly turns around to see a young man with black, spiky hair and dark coloured eyes staring at him. 

Oh God, Sakusa can’t speak Portuguese. Maybe he can try his luck with English? He pulls down his mask to speak but quickly finds that every phrase and word he knows in English has abandoned him in his hour of need. He’s standing there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, internally panicked. When the man gets a better look of Sakusa’s face, he makes a small ‘ohh’ sound and speaks again. “You’re Japanese, right?”

Wait… is he speaking Japanese? Why does this man sound familiar?

Then it clicks.

“Are you Pedro? Hinata’s roommate?”

Pedro nods. “You must be… wait, you’re that guy on Shouyou’s lockscreen, Kiyoomi Sakusa.”

He’s Hinata’s lockscreen? “Yeah… yeah that’s me.”

“Shouyou didn’t mention that you were visiting.” Sakusa ignores the casual use of Hinata’s first name, knowing how that's the norm in other countries. There’s a Kenma-like manner to the way Pedro speaks. Indifferent, yet not distant.

“I, uhh…” He trails off, suddenly self-conscious and embarrassed. “He doesn’t know that I’m here. It’s a surprise…” He mumbles. 

Pedro laughs, but it’s not unkind. “Well he’ll definitely love you being here, I can tell you that much.” Sakusa wonders if that means there’s more to tell. Pedro walks past him and unlocks his apartment door. Wait, no, Sakusa isn’t ready- “Shouyou isn’t here. He’s down at the beach, practising with Heitor. You can put your luggage in here and if you want, you can freshen up and have a shower. Even take a nap, I’m sure you’re tired. And when you wake up I can take you down to the beach to see him?”

“I’d rather wait here for him.”

Pedro raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Shouyou tends to practice for a long time. He won’t be home until at least eight o’clock.”

Sakusa reconsiders and then nods slowly. “Yeah okay. Thank you.”

He showers and takes a three hour nap on Hinata’s bed. It wasn’t until he laid his head on Hinata’s pillow that he realised how much like _home_ Hinata smelt like. He smells the same, but also different. Evolved. Along with the sweet and citrusy scent of mandarins and lemongrass, there’s a hint of sea salt, no doubt from his daily beach volleyball training, and sleep? Sakusa doesn’t know how to describe how ‘sleep’ smells like but it’s that cosy scent after someone’s slept in freshly washed sheets once.

When he wakes and changes into a fresh change of clothes, Sakusa feels his confidence levels increase by tenfold. Maybe it’s for the best that Hinata wasn’t at the apartment when he arrived. After all, he did just spend thirty six hours travelling from Osaka to Rio, with an eight hour layover in Dubai. 

Pedro takes him on public transport down to Copacabana Beach, a place that Sakusa has only seen in photos. The sea seems bluer in Rio and the sun feels warmer, but it’s not a scorching heat. The beach is filled with tourists and residents alike with towels and umbrellas scattered across the sands. It’s not long before they find Hinata and Heitor. They’re still quite far from them, but Sakusa would recognise that shade of clementine hair anywhere. 

When Pedro leaves him, Sakusa feels sweat build on the palms of his hands and he knows it’s not from the heat. He lightly pinches the front of his white t-shirt and airs it out to help cool himself down before taking a handkerchief out of his shoulder bag, drying his hands before he could think to wipe on the sides of his smokey light blue trousers. He walks closer to the patch of sand where Hinata practises.

Hinata looks just as ethereal as the day Sakusa first met him. Like an angel, soaring not for the skies, but for the sun, as if it’s the key to unlock the gates of heaven. Video chats and social media photos don’t really do Hinata justice, Sakusa thinks. His skin is a gorgeous sunkissed colour, his muscles clearly robust from how they flex and harden from use, but Hinata still wears sunshine for a smile.

Sakusa is about to make his presence known when Hinata appears to be saying goodbye to the man he’s practising with. Heitor, if he recalls correctly? Heitor cheerfully waves goodbye to his partner, before slinging his arm affectionately over a woman’s shoulders and walking away together. A girlfriend, perhaps.

Good. 

Now Hinata is alone. 

Oh God, _Hinata is alone._ Sakusa has to do this. 

He removes his white slip-on shoes, dusts them off and puts them into his shoulder bag, stuffing them in. Hinata is crouched, packing his things, his back remains facing Sakusa as he approaches. He inhales deeply, then exhales. Every nerve in his body feels alive. 

“Shouyou.” 

Hinata stills at the sound of his name, but he doesn’t turn around. Not yet. 

“Kiyoomi?” He asks. There’s hesitancy in his voice, as if he doesn’t want to allow himself to hope.

“I’m here.”

Then Hinata stands as he turns. Their eyes meet and the events of the past year seem to fall away. Sakusa’s heart pounds against his chest, serving as a reminder of how nervous he is. He swallows hard and takes a step towards Hinata, his feet sinking slightly into the soft white sand.

“What are you doing here?” Hinata asks softly, taking a step closer to Sakusa.

“I came here to tell you something.” A step.

“You came all the way to Rio to tell me something.” Hinata sounds disbelieving but takes another step.

“It’s very important.” And another step.

“And what would that be?” One last step, and they’re in front of each other. They’re close enough to see the finer details of each other’s face. How Hinata’s skin glows from the sunscreen he applied earlier, how much longer Sakusa’s hair got during their year and a half apart. He looks at Kiyoomi with those beautiful amber doe eyes of his, waiting, wondering, and _hoping_. Sakusa gathers the courage that still lingers in his heart and reaches out for Hinata’s hands, linking both of their pinkies together. 

“I came here to tell you that you’re wrong.”

That catches Hinata off guard, surprise written all over his face. “I’m wro-”

“You’re wrong,” Sakusa reiterates, cutting Hinata off before he could complete his sentence. “You’re wrong because we’re not on different paths, Shouyou. What I told you last year is true. If my path doesn’t involve you, then I’m not following it. You’re my path, you’ve always been my path and you will always be my path.” He pulls Hinata closer to him by their linked pinkies, forcing them to arch their necks to look at each other.

“And I know this isn’t going to be easy, I have no delusions about that. There’ll be days where we fight, where we think the distance is suffocating and we can’t bear it, but I’m tired of every reason we can’t be together. I am tired of living another day without being loved by you. I’m tired of listening to love songs and thinking of you but knowing that you’re not mine. I’m tired of living in the fear of losing you.” 

Sakusa presses their foreheads together. “I love you, Hinata Shouyou, and though I didn’t always know it then, I have loved you since we were eight years old. I’m just a boy, standing in front of another boy, asking him if he can find space in his heart to love me back.”

Hinata looks into Sakusa’s eyes, eyes that remind him of the night sky, eyes that are cold and harsh to everyone else but warm and kind for him. With Sakusa standing there, with his heart laid bare for Hinata to see, how can he refuse him a second time? 

“Do you remember when you took me to see the Skytree for my sixteenth birthday?” Hinata asks softly. Sakusa furrows his eyebrows, in that way Hinata finds cute, clearly confused as to how that is relevant to their current situation but nods his head. “I told you that there are two times when I feel on top of the world.”

“The first is when you see the view over the wall when you play volleyball,” Sakusa replies. “But you never told me the second.”

“The second,” he says, loosening their pinkies so he can reach his arms up and around Sakusa’s neck, gently pulling him down, while Sakusa reflexively holds him in the same way he did that night in April, “is when I’m at your side. With you, I feel like I can tear down the sky and all of its stars.” 

“I never took you for a poet.”

Hinata smiles. “You make a poet out of me, Kiyoomi.” Then he pushes himself up on the tips of his toes, pulling Sakusa down into an overdue kiss.

Electric.

For all the words he knows, it’s the only word that Sakusa can think of to describe HInata’s kisses. An electric current courses through his veins, travelling through each nerve, curling itself around the skeletal structure of his body. He feels _alive._ Hinata leads Sakusa, deepening the kiss as he cups his jaw and tempts his mouth to open wider so he can slip his tongue in.

Tongue kisses always looked disgusting to Sakusa. What could possibly be remotely attractive or arousing about two people essentially _licking_ each other? And Sakusa dared not to think about the hygiene violations that tongue kisses entail. But there’s something about being in Rio de Janeiro that inspires a boldness in Sakusa. Or maybe it’s being around Hinata that breeds a certain kind of spontaneity. Sakusa thinks it’s a mix of both because when Hinata slips his tongue inside his mouth, he finds himself not completely hating it. In fact, Sakusa finds that he actually loves it.

And there they stand, kissing on the sands of Copacabana as the sun descends behind the horizon of the glittering South Atlantic Sea. The sky breathes a thousand shades of purple, pink, yellow, and orange, but neither Sakusa or Hinata are witnesses to the painted sky above them. No one pays attention to them either. To the world, they appear to look nothing more than lovers sharing a passionate moment on the beach.

All of the stories, the poems, the songs, they all make sense. Nevermind the longing, nevermind the loneliness, nevermind the heartbreak. If Sakusa has to experience all of those again, knowing that it would result with the man he loves in his arms, he would not hesitate. Is love easy? No, love is really fucking hard. But is love worth it? Well, yes. Love can be painful and paralysing, but it can also be pure and passionate. Humans are flawed, so there’s truly no such thing as a perfect love, but Sakusa thinks that loving Hinata is pretty close to it.

When they finally pull away, and they do, they press their foreheads together, breathless and red-cheeked, but _happy_ and _together._

They return to the apartment soon after and climb into Hinata’s bed together. It’s a snug but not an uncomfortable fit, with the bed being bigger than a single, but smaller than a double. They lay together, with Hinata laying on his front, half on Sakusa and half on the mattress. His arm settles on Sakusa’s chest while he lays his head in the crook between Sakusa’s collarbone and neck. The taller man wraps one arm around Hinata, pulling him closer to his body, while his other hand holds onto Hinata’s hand which rests on his chest.

The faint sounds of crickets chirping and Rio’s nighttime suburbs filter into the room, with the occasional cars passing by in the street below or a dog barking in the distance. Moonlight streams into the window and it’s just bright enough for Sakusa to make out Hinata’s features through the dark.

“When did you realise how you felt about me?” Hinata asks quietly as he aimlessly traces lines on Sakusa’s clothed chest.

“When we were thirteen, after our loss to Shiratorizawa in Dosho. I had my mother diagnose me when I got home after the game.”

“Wait, really?”

Sakusa nods, though he realises this is futile when Hinata can’t see him. “Yeah. Didn’t understand why my chest kept having this tiny, little flutter whenever I thought about you. I really thought I was coming down with a condition.” 

Hinata laughs at that but it’s not in jest, rather endearment. “For me, it was when we were sixteen, when you took me to the Skytree. I stood at the very top and thought that if I was going to share the world with someone, it would be you.”

“We wasted so many years.”

“I don’t think of those years as wasted. We were always in love. We just took the scenic route to get to where we are now.”

“Trust you to find the brighter side of things.”

Hinata laughs again and Sakusa drowns in his sound. They continue to talk into the night until sleep takes them both.

🏐

When Sakusa wakes the following day, he can sense something is wrong. Well, not _wrong_ , per say. It’s more of, something is missing. With eyes still closed, he stretches his hands across the bed, hoping to eventually come across a robust set of muscles and warmth that can only belong to Hinata. When his hands tread the empty air and the cool sheets, a sudden confusion hazes his mind. Sakusa lies on his back, with his hands reaching up to his face, rubbing the morning glory out of his eyes. He drags his hands down his cheeks tiredly.

He turns his head to the side where Hinata had slept and spots a note atop the pillow he slept on. It’s folded like a tent, allowing it to stand on its own. Sakusa’s first name is written on one side in kanji. Sakusa pushes himself to sit up on the bed, crossing his legs as he pinches the note with his fingers before opening it up.

> _Kiyoomi,_
> 
> _I just went to work! I’ll be back this afternoon at four._
> 
> _There’s breakfast (or lunch, depending on when you wake up) in the microwave for you. Make sure you get plenty of rest!_
> 
> _I’ll take you out to dinner tonight so dress up nice ;)_
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Shouyou_ ♡

Sakusa traces the word ‘yours’ on the paper, smiling fondly to himself. He likes the sound of being Hinata’s. He reaches over to the bedside table and picks up his phone, disconnecting the charger, and checks the time. Staring right at him are the numbers one thirty-one in the afternoon. Shit, did Sakusa really sleep for thirteen hours? 

Even though he’s technically on vacation, Sakusa doesn’t stop working. He forces himself to his feet to start stretching and warming up, loosening the tension held in his muscles and joints, moaning a little when he hears a satisfying click in his bones. Then he moves onto a light workout. Nothing too strenuous, given that he’s still dealing with the after effects of travelling thirty six hours in a timezone that is exactly twelve hours behind what he’s used to. Truly, day has turned to night and night into day for Sakusa. He wonders how long it took for Hinata to get used to it.

His phone rings when he finishes his cooldown and for one happy moment, he thinks it’s Hinata. The smile on his face drops as soon as he sees Komori’s stupid angelic face grinning up at him from the screen. He declines the FaceTime call and tosses the phone onto the bed without a second glance.

Sakusa barely has time to wipe the sweat from his brow when his phone goes off again. He groans. If he doesn’t pick up, then Komori won’t stop. His phone will be flooded with notifications from his annoying cousin to the point where Sakusa will be very, _very_ tempted to throw his phone into the Atlantic Sea. Or onto the street below Hinata’s apartment complex. It depends on how long his patience will last.

He picks up and stands the phone on top of Hinata’s dresser, leaning it against a potted plant, while he gets his things ready for a shower. “What is it, Motoya?”

_“SAKUSA KIYOOMI!”_

“I will hang up on you again, don’t test me.”

 _“WAIT NO!”_ Komori clears his throat. “I just wanted to ask how it went.”

“How what went?”

“Don’t be an ass, Kiyo-chan, you know what I’m talking about.”

“Why are you still awake? It’s two in the morning over there.”

“Don’t deflect,” Komori tells him, narrowing his eyes at Sakusa through the screen. “What happened? What did he say?”

“It… went well,” Sakusa replies lamely, not really sure how to explain everything. He’s never had to talk about that sort of thing before. Usually, it’s Komori telling him and Hinata about the FaceTime dates he and Suna had before they lived together after graduation, or Komori telling them about the first time Suna told him he loved him, or the first time they kissed. “He feels the same way.”

At that, Komori laughs. “Well yeah, duh, you’re in his room. I figured it went well otherwise you’d be in a hotel room because knowing you, you probably booked a hotel room in case it all went wrong, right?”

Sakusa’s seething silence confirms Komori’s presumption. He laughs again, but it’s not unkind. “Listen, I’m just happy for you. For both of you.” There’s a softness in Komori’s voice, indicating sincerity. “I always knew it was going to be the two of you together. No one else would have made sense. Though, you both gave me a scare last year at his leaving party.”

Wait.

Does that mean… Does Komori know?

Damn Komori and his perceptiveness.

Sakusa’s perplexity must be written all over his face because Komori laughs again. “Yeah, I know what happened. Well, kind of. I don’t know what _actually_ happened, but I know some sort of confession went down and one of you rejected the other. It was pretty obvious in the weeks that followed. You and Shou-chan really aren’t that subtle, y’know. You both wear your hearts on your sleeves.”

“I…” Sakusa clears his throat. “Sorry for not telling you.”

Komori waves his hands dismissively. “Nah, don’t be sorry. We’re best friends, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have to tell me everything that goes on in your life, Kiyo-chan.”

“But you tell me about everything in yours.”

“Just because I tell you everything doesn’t mean that _you_ have to tell me everything. It’s not a verbal transaction where I give you something and so therefore you have to give me something in return, that’s not how it works.” Sakusa is silent as he absorbs all of his cousin’s words. Okay, maybe Komori is a lot more considerate than he ever gave him credit for. 

“Thank you…? I think?”

“Oh my God, did I just get a ‘thank you’ from _the_ Sakusa Kiyoomi?” Komori gasps in feign shock, pressing a hand to his chest over where his heart should be.

Sakusa isn’t impressed. “Nevermind, fuck you.”

Komori laughs but Sakusa finds himself chuckling along with him. “So where is our Brazilian tangerine?”

“At work. He’ll be back in a couple of hours. Then we’re going out for dinner.”

“Oho?” Komori wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, smirking at Sakusa as he rests his chin in his hand. “So you’re going out for a romantic dinner together in Rio de Janeiro, then coming back to have-”

“Motoya,” Sakusa warns.

“Listen, I know it’s probably your first time so-”

“Who says it’s my first time?”

“Kiyo-chan, you won’t let anyone come that close to you unless they’re Shou-chan.” Once again, Sakusa’s seething silence confirms Komori’s presumption, though he’s more grumpy about this one. “Right, so you’ve got to make sure that you have lots of lube-”

“I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“Wait! This is import-” Sakusa cuts Komori off by pressing the red button. Then he leaves to have a shower. 

When he returns, all freshened up and clean, he checks his phone. There’s five missed calls from Komori, along with seventeen text messages. Sakusa swipes them to the left, clearing them from his notification centre. He’ll read them later. Maybe.

Then Hinata’s texts slide up. He taps on them and his phone opens up his messages app.

> H. SHOUYOU: Just in case you missed my note, I went to work! I’ll be back at 4. There’s breakfast (or lunch, depending when you wake up) for you in the microwave. Make sure you rest today! I know you had a long journey. When I come back, I’ll get dressed and I’ll take you out to dinner so make sure you dress nice 😘  
> H. SHOUYOU: [attached photo]  
> H. SHOUYOU: You look really cute when you’re asleep btw 😚  
> H. SHOUYOU: It’s my new wallpaper 🥰

And sure enough, there’s a photo of Sakusa fast asleep. He’s on his back with his arms loosely folded over his stomach and the blanket. To him, his facial expression is neutral, but Hinata seems to see something special amidst the plainness.

He texts back.

> S. KIYOOMI: Stay safe, Shouyou.  
> S. KIYOOMI: And thank you.  
> S. KIYOOMI: 🙈💛

The monkey emoji is a last minute decision, one that Sakusa is already regretting. God, it’s so out of character, he never uses emojis, but for Hinata, he will. 

Time passes and soon enough Hinata comes home. They get ready together, with Hinata telling Sakusa all about his day and the things that happened to him - in today’s instance, Hinata saved a cat from being run over. Sakusa wears a similar outfit to what he wore yesterday, but wears a slim fit pair of off-white trousers with an open, duck egg blue shirt which has black and white stripes running along its vertical. He waits in the living room for Hinata to finish getting dressed. 

“How do I look?” 

Sakusa turns to look at Hinata but the words crumble away in his throat when he looks at him. _Fuck._ He looks completely criminal and Sakusa is about to become an outlaw with him. Hinata wears a half-open printed shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The base colour is light cream and has mandarin-coloured tigers and olive green dragons printed on it. Hinata pairs the shirt with a mesh vest which he wears underneath and black, fitted trousers. 

“You look g-good, you look decent.” _What the fuck is wrong with you, Sakusa Kiyoomi?_ He asks himself in horror. Decent? That word could not have been more wrong. Outfits like that do not produce decent thoughts, at least not for Sakusa whose current thoughts are positively filthy. “You look like…” Like Adonis, or like Achilles! Say something, Sakusa! “...shit,” he breathes.

Hinata blinks. “Like shit?”

Sakusa’s eyes widen, realising how it sounds. “No! Not shit! I mean! Fuck…” Komori is on the other side of the world but Sakusa can still hear his cousin’s teasing laughter ringing in his ears, mocking him. He buries his face in his hands, allowing the shame to wash over him. “I was swearing to myself not at you… I’m not good with words.”

Hinata laughs lightly as he sits next to Sakusa on the sofa. He gently runs his fingers through Sakusa’s curls. “I thought you have a Literature degree. Aren’t you supposed to be good with words?”

“That just means I’m good with other people’s words, that doesn’t mean I’m good with my own,” Sakusa corrects. He sits up, facing Hinata. “Especially where you’re involved.”

Hinata whistles, as if impressed. “Wow, _I_ can make _the_ Sakusa Kiyoomi speechless?”

Sakusa frowns at that. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“What?”

“ _The_ Sakusa Kiyoomi. It sounds wrong.”

Hinata smiles and his face is like the sun. He reaches out and gently holds Sakusa’s chin, turning his head to face him. He presses a sweet kiss to the two moles on his forehead. “How about _my_ Sakusa Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa can feel heat rush up to his cheeks and he knows he’s blushing. “Y-Yeah… I like the sound of that instead.”

They leave shortly after that, taking an Uber to the restaurant. It’s a short fifteen minute drive to Urca, where the restaurant is located, high in the mountain, providing a wide view of the city below. Sakusa could tell, upon arrival, that this restaurant was quite expensive, but despite his constant attempts to pay for the evening, Hinata would not be dissuaded. Something about how it’s his turn to spoil Sakusa. He supposes that it’s quite poetic. At sixteen, he showed Hinata all of Tokyo, and now, five years later, Hinata shows him all of Rio de Janeiro.

😷🍊

The evening is filled with Brazilian food, alcohol, and easy conversation. As the night comes, Hinata and Sakusa get a little more bolder with each other, becoming less subtle as they flirt and tease. Two hours after they arrive, they finally call for the bill and then endure a quiet Uber drive where Hinata lightly rubs Sakusa’s thigh in the backseat, teasing him, tempting him. Instead of returning to Hinata’s apartment, they decide to head to the hotel room that Sakusa had booked as a contingency plan.

After Sakusa checks in and gets the room key, they take the elevator to their floor. He unlocks the door and when it opens, Hinata wordlessly follows him into the moonlit hotel room. The door closes with a soft click behind them. They remove their shoes, leaving them by the front door and venture deeper into the suite. Then they look at each other, eyes calculating, analysing who will make the first move. There’s a hunger in Hinata’s eyes and if Sakusa looks close enough, he can just about see his own hunger reflected in Hinata’s eyes. 

Then they move at the same time. Hinata jumps, throwing himself onto Sakusa. Their chests collide as Sakusa picks him up, hands holding his firm ass while Hinata clamps his thick thighs around his waist, locking them in that position. With their heights now reversed, Hinata bends his head down to kiss Sakusa, running his hands through those beautiful black curls. 

Sakusa then turns them around, pressing Hinata hard against the wall, earning a truly sinful gasp from the younger man. Sakusa takes that opportunity to slip his tongue inside Hinata’s mouth, following his lead from the night before, and smiles when Hinata moans against his lips. He tastes like the caipirinha they drank at dinner, spicy, sweet, and fruity all at once. 

Using the wall as extra support, Sakusa removes one hand from Hinata’s ass, sliding it up to cup his jaw then to his gorgeous mandarin-coloured hair which he tugs backwards, exposing his neck. Sakusa kisses his neck and Hinata’s gasps and moans go straight to his cock.

“Bed, _now_ ,” Hinata growls the last word like a command and Sakusa dutifully obeys. 

He lays him down on the king-sized bed and is about to climb on top when Hinata pulls him down with him and switches their positions, resulting in Hinata straddling Sakusa’s abdomen as the older, taller man gasps underneath him. Sakusa manages to sit up long enough to strip Hinata, something he’s been waiting all evening to do since he walked out of his bedroom in that unholy mesh vest and half-open shirt combination. 

He takes his time, wanting to savour, wanting to remember every intimate moment shared with Hinata. His hands caress Hinata’s bare skin, tough and tight from exposure to the winds, sands, and sea salt of Brazil. He can feel his muscles, raw with strength, and the very thought sends a shiver down Sakusa’s spine. Moonlight streams from the hotel window, illuminating the fine features of Hinata’s face. 

“Are you sure, Kiyoomi?” Hinata asks softly, as he caresses Sakusa’s cheek. “Is it your first…?”

Sakusa nods, answering both questions. “I feel comfortable with you,” he says, and it’s true. There’s nothing that Hinata can do that would make him feel otherwise. “There’s no one else I would want this with.”

Then Hinata peels Sakusa’s shirts off, both the over and undershirt, then tugs off his trousers, then his socks, until only Sakusa’s boxers remain. Under Hinata’s piercing gaze, Sakusa suddenly feels self-conscious of his body. He tenses and he’s sure Hinata can feel it. He’s never considered himself particularly attractive but it never posed a problem in the past. Then again, he’s never been interested in anyone but Hinata so he’s never had to care about anyone else’s opinion of him. Is he even beautiful in Hinata’s eyes?

“Meu coração,” Hinata murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to Sakusa’s temple and cheeks when he senses his self-consciousness. “Meu anjo.” He kisses his neck and collarbones and Sakusa notes how Hinata’s lips are warm against his cool skin. “Meu carinho.” He leaves a trail of kisses from Sakusa’s chest to his stomach.

“What do those mean?” Sakusa asks, his voice low and soft.

Hinata smiles and Sakusa melts. “It means, _my heart,_ ” he kisses his stomach again, “ _my angel_ ,” then presses another kiss to his chest, “ _my love_.” He finishes with a sweet kiss on Sakusa’s lips. “You’re so beautiful, Kiyoomi, let me show you how beautiful you are.”

It takes all his strength to whisper, “Yes, _please_.”

Hinata applies the same vigor he reserves for volleyball for sex. He doesn’t waste a single action, every movement produces a result. Sakusa wears love bites around his collarbone like an Egyptian necklace and his nipples are so sensitive from Hinata lightly nibbling at them that when the AC unit in the hotel room sends a gentle breeze over Sakusa’s way, electricity ripples through his body. The sounds that escape his lips are downright wicked and they’re music to Hinata’s ears.

“Don’t make me beg,” Sakusa says when Hinata gets up. He laughs lightly as he takes the condoms and lube out of his bag, before climbing back onto the bed and pressing a loving kiss to Sakusa’s forehead.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Hinata tells him, his voice smooth like a verbal butter. 

Then he pulls at the elastic of Sakusa’s boxers, prompting the other man to lift his body up slightly, just enough for Hinata to slide them off with ease, throwing them carelessly to the other side of the room. Then, ever so carefully, Hinata pumps a few drops of watermelon-flavoured lubricant onto Sakusa’s cock, making him twitch a little from the unexpected coldness. Heat stirs in Sakusa’s belly at the sight of Hinata stroking his length, then when he takes him into his mouth, his eyes almost roll into the back of his skull, mouth open in pure ecstasy as moans and soft profanities pour out.

“Sh-Shouyou...” Sakusa whimpers and Hinata likes the sound of his lover at his mercy. Sakusa’s thighs tremble each time Hinata goes deeper and he can feel the weakening hold on his hair from his shaking fingers. Then Hinata takes more of Sakusa, his mouth enveloping around his cock and feels a desire overwhelm him. His hand instinctively pushes Hinata’s head downwards, wanting him to eat him whole.

Hinata gags and he comes up for air. Sakusa shouldn’t find that so hot, but he does. He has an apology ready but Hinata goes down on him again, taking his entire length in one and Sakusa is undone. God he’s so good at this but Sakusa doesn’t want to come yet. It’s too soon for all of this to be over. But with the lust-filled look in Hinata’s eyes, something tells Sakusa that this night is not about to end anytime soon.

“Fuck me,” Sakusa whispers. 

Hinata stops sucking, much to his disappointment, and comes up to Sakusa, his breath warm next to his ear. “Soon, meu carinho,” he promises. _My love._ The thought of Hinata whispering sweet nothings to him in Portuguese is enough to send him to nirvana.

He continues to blow Sakusa, building a rhythm and pace that forces Sakusa’s breathing to become shallow and sporadic as pressure builds in the lower regions of his stomach. Like a wave, building in the distance, readying itself to crash onto the shore. It builds and builds and Sakusa clutches the hotel bed sheets. And then… and then…. Nothing. Hinata lifts his head before Sakusa could climax and he growls disapprovingly.

Hinata laughs at the frown on his lover’s face and lightly kisses his lips. “In due time, meu coração.” _My heart._ “I want us to come together.” Then Hinata leaves the bed again to wash his hands. When he returns, he rubs his hands together to warm them up. “Relax, Kiyoomi.”

Sakusa has a sentence ready in his mouth, a sentence about how telling someone to relax doesn’t actually help them relax but the words are lost as soon as Hinata’s cool fingertips lightly tread around his entrance. He shivers at the cool sensation of lube being squirted near his hole. Hinata murmurs reassurances before he delves in, slipping a finger inside Sakusa, causing him to see stars. Whether it’s from pleasure or pain, he can’t quite tell. Hinata explores inside him, probing around until he finds his prostate.

“There you are,” he says smugly as he gently massages his prostate, and fuck, what Sakusa wouldn’t do to kiss that smile.

Hinata is a considerate lover, he learns. He slows when he feels Sakusa tense up, he quickens the pace when Sakusa writhes underneath him. And when he begs for it, Hinata obliges by sliding in a second finger and then later a third, filling Sakusa up. 

“Please,” Sakusa pleads and fingers slowly and carefully slide out of him. Then takes a condom packet out, the covering crinkling as he opens it. Hinata rolls it on and squeezes lube onto his length. 

Then he pushes the tip in. He gradually goes deeper, watching Sakusa’s face for any signs of discomfort or pain. Hinata slowly pushes his cock further until he’s completely in, then starts with slow, deep thrusts, all the while he showers Sakusa with loving kisses.

“Sh-Shouyou, _f-faster_ …”

Hinata is only too happy to oblige. He picks up the pace, slamming into Sakusa, their hips clapping together with a loud, audible _smack._ The lubricant squelches between them and their moans create a truly unholy melody that would bar them from entering heaven’s gates. And Sakusa looks so beautiful underneath Hinata. So fucking beautiful. 

“K-Kiyoomi….” Hinata moans. “You’re so pretty, fuck…”

“A-Ah- shit- I-I’m close,” Sakusa says.

“Me t-too.”

A few more well-positioned, well-timed thrusts causes Sakusa’s body to tense, the wave building deep in the nether regions of his stomach. Then the wave crashes and Sakusa’s body snaps with it, jerking as he comes onto his and Hinata’s chests and stomachs. His legs shake as he rides the wave of climax. Hinata isn’t too far behind him, pulsing inside of Sakusa as he grips his thighs, nails digging in, mouth open in rapture.

Sakusa weakly pushes himself up, leaning on an elbow while the other hand reaches up, holding the nape of Hinata’s neck, and pulls him down into a sweet, trembling kiss. Hinata smiles against the kiss, then pulls out gently and goes to dispose of the condom, before returning to Sakusa’s side.

“That was so… fuck, I don’t know how to describe it,” Sakusa murmurs into the quiet of the night.

“I know,” Hinata says as he hugs Sakusa, wrapping his arms around him, one under his neck and the other over his waist, his chest flush against Sakusa’s back. 

“I want to do it again.”

“Me too.”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be good to go. Next time, I want to ride you.” Hinata’s cock twitches at the thought of Sakusa riding him. But still, he can wait ten minutes. He wants to enjoy this quiet moment of intimacy. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

“I love you too, Shouyou.”

That night, they make love twice more and shower together after that, before Hinata eventually falls asleep. Sakusa smiles as he holds the sun in his arms, accomplishing a feat astronomers thought impossible. 

🏐

Tuesday morning comes early and Sakusa wakes up to another empty bed. Only this time, he knows he’s not alone. Soft Brazilian music fills the hotel room and he lifts his head to see where it’s coming from. By the floor-to-ceiling windows of the suite, Hinata does his morning yoga routine, wearing boxers but otherwise naked. He faces the windows, giving Sakusa a full view of how his back muscles flex and tense, how his legs carry his weight but without excessive strain. The sight stirs something warm and primal in Sakusa yet he can’t help but be entranced by the routine. 

It looks like a dance, he thinks. Hinata doesn’t waste a single move, making each one count, and there’s a certain kind of elegance and grace as he fluidly shifts from different stances and positions. Sakusa feels fortunate to be a witness to such a spectacle, to have this version of Hinata in front of him, to have Hinata all to himself where others can’t.

When Hinata eventually turns around, he jumps a little from seeing Sakusa not only awake, but watching him. Then he smiles and interrupts his own routine, walking back to the bed and climbing back on it to crawl to Sakusa, kissing him in greeting. 

“Morning, Kiyoomi, I didn’t think you’d be awake yet,” he says with a smile. “It’s still early. You can sleep some more, if you like.”

“And miss out on watching you do yoga? I don’t think so.”

Hinata laughs. “Well, you could join me, if you want? Since you don’t plan to be sleeping anytime soon.”

“Or you could stay here for a different kind of yoga.”

Hinata’s forehead creases in confusion. “What kind of yoga can we do on the bed- oh- _oh,”_ he says, passing through the different stages of realisation. “Yes, I like the sound of that.”

“Come here then.”

After spending the morning fooling around between the sheets and having breakfast brought up to their suite, Hinata drags Sakusa out of the hotel and into the city. With only a week together, Hinata is determined to show his boyfriend as much of Rio as he can, even though said boyfriend is more than happy to spend the day in bed with him - “Another time!” Hinata tells him and Sakusa holds Hinata to that.

For the afternoon, they purchase tickets for a hop-on, hop-off bus tour of all the major landmarks, allowing them to take their time and properly enjoy the sights. At each monument, they take photos together and Hinata kindly asks if others can take photos of them. One of the photos they take at the top of the Sugarloaf Mountain becomes Sakusa’s new lockscreen and Hinata’s new post on Instagram.

> Liked by **komotoya** , **bokouto** , **akaashikeiji** and **3843 others**
> 
> **ninjashou** it took thirteen years but we got there in the end 🥰 #heflewtorioforme
> 
> View all 1286 comments
> 
> **komotoya** FINALLY 😭😭
> 
> **komotoya** im calling dibs on being the best man for both of you so everyone back off 🔪 i did not suffer for 13 years as a third wheel to have someone else take my rightful place
> 
> **komotoya** actually i take that back the only one who’s allowed to share my position is @natsuhina 😚
> 
> **natsuhina** @komotoya we’ll be the best man and maid of honour duo ever 
> 
> **natsuhina** KIYO-NII!!! ONII-CHAN!!! YOU’RE BOTH SO CUTE!!! 
> 
> **sunarin** took u both long enough lmao now @komotoya can stop complaining
> 
> **sunarin** ur both really out here raising the standards for everyone
> 
> **kodzuken** ☺👍🏼
> 
> **kononoha** OMG??!
> 
> **washitats** Congratulations ❤
> 
> **miyatsu** wow NO ONE saw this coming AT ALL 🙄😒
> 
> **miyatsu** jk jk im really happy for u guys
> 
> **miyatsu** @ojiroaran can we be cute like them pls fly to osaka for me
> 
> **ojiroaran** no❤
> 
> **miyatsu** love me pls 🥺
> 
> **ojiroaran** I’ll think about it
> 
> **akaashikeiji** Cute 💛
> 
> **bokouto** IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU BOTH!!!!!!! WE SHOULD GO ON A DOUBLE DATE WHEN YOU COME HOME 😁💕
> 
> **hoshiiumi** he better treat u right king 😤
> 
> **ushijimawakatoshi** I thought you were always dating? But I still offer my congratulations and best wishes.
> 
> **tobiosetter** @ushijimawakatoshi I thought that too.
> 
> **sakuomi** 🥰🥰
> 
> **komotoya** did u just use emojis
> 
> **sakuomi**.

On Wednesday, it rains so they have a quiet day together in Hinata’s apartment, watching anime and korean dramas with Pedro who joins them. Hinata cooks lunch for the three of them and then by dinner, they’re all feeling a little lazy so they order pizza. 

Thursday is for volleyball and truthfully, Sakusa would have been disappointed if he and Hinata didn’t play at least once during his trip. Sakusa has no qualms about how different beach volleyball is to indoor volleyball - he’s listened to Hinata talk about it often enough during their video calls - but nothing prepares him for how difficult it is to make the transition with his existing skills and to include external factors in his calculations.

With indoor volleyball, he doesn’t have to worry about environmental factors like the wind or the sun, or if he’s going to step on a bad mound of sand. Beach volleyball is different and difficult, but it’s also fun. There’s a kind of thrill associated with trying something new and not being good at it that Sakusa forgot about. All of his failed serves, missed tosses, flubbed receives, and mistimed jumps on the beach don’t frustrate him, they drive him forward instead. 

Okay, that’s a half-lie, maybe it does frustrate him a little. Especially that one time he faceplanted into the sand and Hinata tried (and failed) to hide his giggles. Sakusa is not known for leaving things half-finished so they spend a good half of the day at the beach. They play volleyball and they swim and repeat. 

On Friday morning, Hinata takes Sakusa to some of the cultural sites and museums that Rio has to offer, knowing he enjoys these kinds of outings. They share an audio-guide together, one that Hinata wears so he can translate Portuguese to Japanese for Sakusa as the latter language isn’t available for the guide. Then they visit a market where independently owned businesses, both retail and food, sell their products. 

There’s a sunglasses stall where they try on different ones - usually the most ostentatious ones - and take silly photos together. Now, normally Sakusa isn’t the type to participate in such activities but to see Hinata’s smile? He’ll indulge him with anything. They both end up walking away with a pair of sunglasses each. Both round-frame glasses but in different tinted colours, Hinata’s is a pearly pink while Sakusa’s is lilac. He also purchases a Rio de Janeiro fridge magnet, to add to his growing collection. Naturally, he had Hinata choose it for him. 

In the afternoon, Hinata and Sakusa have tickets for an indoor volleyball match between Brazil and Argentina as part of the South American Championship. The physical aspect is one part of volleyball training. Another is observation. Hinata never forgot what Akaashi told him: “Volleyball is not just about being on the court, Hinata-kun. From the outside, we can see more. There is still lots you can learn from watching.”

It just so happens to be good luck that Hinata and Sakusa are able to watch a game together before Sakusa leaves on Sunday. And a finals game at that.

The Maracanãzinho Stadium is filled to capacity, half of the crowd wears black and red, waving Brazilian flags in support for their home team, Asas São Paulo, and the other half wears light blue and white for the Argentine team. There’s cheers and music, the likes of which Sakusa hasn’t witnessed before, at least, not at this level. Sure, he’s been to Nationals and Interhighs every year since middle school, but even his collegiate competitions seem to pale in comparison.

Sakusa’s awe grows when Hinata tells him that the Maracanãzinho Stadium is primarily used for volleyball. Back in Japan, the only sports to ever draw crowds of this incredible size and to have entire stadiums dedicated to the sport are baseball and football. 

“So how’d you get the tickets on such short notice?” Sakusa asks, keeping his eyes fixed on the Brazilian team’s warmups. One of their players appears to have a similar serve to Sakusa’s, in that it has a sharp curved trajectory. 

“Oh Lucio and I had these tickets booked months ago,” Hinata replies. “I try to watch as many games as I can, both beach and indoor volleyball.”

“So where is he?”

“Ah well, when he was booking online, it glitched out on him and he ended up getting two tickets for the price of one. Tried to give the spare ticket back but it had already gone through as booked and it was too much hassle to put it all back. So he’s here somewhere and you got his spare ticket.”

“Oh I see.” Sakusa watches the Brazilian a little closer for his second warmup serve and notices that he doesn’t put a harsh spin on it as he does, making it look like it should be easy to receive, only for the ball to swerve at the last second. Sakusa looks down at his hands. Maybe he should try that. It seems straightforward enough. And if he manages to get another serve under his belt, he might be able to one-up Atsumu.

“What’s wrong with your hands?”

“Nothing.” Sakusa looks up and nods towards the Brazilian team’s warmups. “His serve looks like a mix between a jump floater and a jump serve, with increased torque but not as much force as it looks.”

Hinata follows his line of sight and then his mouth makes a small ‘o’ shape. “Oh yeah, that’s Rafael Peralta, he’s one of their outside hitters. He’s got one of the best serves in Brazil, like his serves go WHOOSH then BAM!” It’s a comfort to Sakusa that Hinata hasn’t grown out of how he describes volleyball. “He’s soooo cool, but I wish Romero was still here.”

“Isn’t Asas São Paulo the team that Nicolas Romero used to play for? Before he switched to the V.League in Japan?” Sakusa asks and Hinata nods in response.

After warmups are finished, the lineups for each team are introduced. All of the names sound the same to Sakusa, unable to tell the difference between Portuguese and Spanish, until one name gives him and Hinata pause.

“Number 17, Tooru Oikawa! A perceptive setter who has the ability to draw out 100% of the potential of each of his unique spikers.”

Hinata and Sakusa turn to look at each other, simultaneously mouthing the familiar name under their breaths. Sakusa hasn’t heard that name in six years. The last time was during the 2011 All-Japan Youth Camp, where he vaguely remembers him arguing with Ushijima upon entering the training centre. For a moment, he thinks it’s a coincidence. But really, how many Oikawa Tooru’s are there in the world who play volleyball in the position of setter? 

For Hinata, he only recognises the name from the volleyball circuit in high school. He somewhat remembers his name coming up as his school being one of Shiratorizawa’s rivals in volleyball magazines. Hinata never thought he would end up in the Argentine League on the other side of the world, and playing for a powerhouse team like CA San Juan no less.

“He’s really good,” Hinata murmurs as they watch. “Was he always this good, Kiyoomi?”

“I think so, but I can’t really remember,” Sakusa admits. “I mean, I remember Miya complimenting his sets. And Wakatoshi-kun wanted Oikawa to set for him, so he’s got to be good, right?”

Hinata nods. “Yeah, if Atsumu-san complimented his sets and Ushijima-san wanted him personally, he’s got to be amazing, like some sort of Grand King.”

It’s a tense game, one that Sakusa would hate if he were playing it, but as a spectator, he’s fascinated and can’t take his eyes away from it. There’s never more than a three point difference in the score. At first glance, it seems that Brazil has the upper hand against Argentina, but under the trained eye, one can see that the momentum quickly shifts from one team to the other. It’s thrilling to watch and next to Sakusa, Hinata squirms in his seat, knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists.

“You want to play, huh?” Sakusa asks, taking the hand closest to him and gently rubbing his thumb across the knuckles.

“I can’t decide if I want to play against Oikawa or to play _with_ him. I’d love to hit one of his tosses but I feel like it would be really satisfying to dig up that wicked serve of his.” At that moment, Oikawa does a setter dump - that really looks more like a spike - which lands in the far left corner of Brazil’s side of the court, stupefying them. “Like that! See! It’s like he’s got eyes in the back of his head or something!”

“One day you’ll be able to, just need to keep training and working,” Sakusa says, bringing Hinata’s hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the back of it before lowering it to his lap. “And I’ll be at your side when that day comes.”

Hinata smiles warmly at his boyfriend. “Like the promise you made to me when we were eight years old?” He lifts his hand, sticking his pinky finger up in the air.

Sakusa returns Hinata’s smile with one of his own. He captures the raised pinky with his own, linking them together. “Like the promise I made to you,” he confirms.

In the end, Brazil triumphs over Argentina after a gruelling deuce in the fifth set that had both Hinata and Sakusa at the edge of their seats, leaning forward as if it would get them closer to the adrenaline and thrill of the centre court. 

Together, they manage to get down to the court, where fans wait for autographs and photos. Eventually, they get to the front where they stand face to face with Oikawa Tooru. He stares at them, likely surprised to see two Japanese spectators in Brazil. His eyes narrow as he looks at them, specifically Sakusa, before they widen in realisation. “You, I know you. You were that first year with the freaky wrists at the All-Japan camp!”

Behind his mask, Sakusa frowns. “Yeah, that’s me… The first year with the freaky wrists…” Hinata snickers next to him. “Sakusa Kiyoomi,” he supplies, then he turns to look at his boyfriend, “and this Hinata Shouyou.”

“That’s it! Sakusa-kun! Ushiwaka was pretty impressed with you, not that you could tell with his… well, with his everything.” Oikawa waves his hands in vague gestures, as if it would convey his meaning. He smiles brightly at Hinata. “Nice to meet you, Shouyou-kun!”

“Nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san!”

“So what are you doing in South America, playing for Argentina?” Sakusa asks.

“That’s a long story, one we haven’t got time for right now,” is Oikawa’s reply. Oh right, Sakusa remembers, there are still other people waiting to meet him and he probably has post-match interviews. 

Then Oikawa has a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that Sakusa associates with Atsumu. A sinking pit grows in his stomach. “But, we don’t leave for Argentina until tomorrow morning, and I don’t have any plans after this so if you want to know, treat me to some dinner.” Ah, there it is.

Hinata looks up at Sakusa with sparkles in his eyes, silently asking if he’s comfortable with Oikawa accompanying them for the evening. He doesn’t have to ask, but he’s grateful for Hinata’s thoughtfulness. He nods once and Hinata smiles brightly before he faces Oikawa.

“I know a place that’s really good and really cheap! It’s got healthy food too!” Hinata chirps.

“Sure, sounds good to me,” says Oikawa with a soft grin. “I’ll meet you both by the south entrance in about thirty minutes, alright? I still have an interview and I gotta change.”

That’s how Hinata and Sakusa end up in the stadium’s apparel store, passing the time by browsing through team jerseys and other merchandise along with other fans and spectators. Sakusa has another fridge magnet in his hand. It’s an Asas São Paulo jersey with Peralta’s number 13 on it. “It’d be so cool to play for Asas! Brazilian volleyball is on a different level to Japan! I can just see it now, me flying over them and smacking the ball down on their side of the court!”

Sakusa frowns behind his mask. “Is that what you want? To live here in Brazil?” 

He always thought that Brazil was temporary. Just for two years. To think that Hinata could want to live out here permanently… He tries to push the thought to the back of his head, ultimately failing when his overthinking takes over his thoughts unwillingly. Sakusa has never imagined playing outside of Japan, never thought of breaking into the foreign leagues. He’s not as brave as Hinata or Oikawa. 

Hinata seems to sense the heaviness in his lover’s words, setting down the stuffed jaguar wearing a Brazilian jersey. He reaches for Sakusa’s hand, linking their pinkies together before he gently pulls Sakusa towards him. “One day, perhaps. But not for a long time. I still have unfinished business in Japan.”

That should be a source of comfort, but Sakusa doesn’t feel the soft warmth he usually feels from Hinata’s words.

Then Hinata squeezes their pinkies together. “But you know that I’m not going anywhere without you, right? None of this will be worth it without you at my side.”

There it is. That flutter in Sakusa’s chest that he felt all those years ago and still feels now.

“So if I wanted to stay in Japan…”

“Then we stay in Japan.”

“And if I wanted to move to Brazil…”

“Then we move to Brazil. Where you go, I go. We're staying together. You're not getting away from me. Never again. I won’t separate us again, I promise.”

Warmth stirs in Sakusa’s chest. Once, during a summer in Okinawa, his grandmother told him: “Whatever makes you feel the sun from the inside out, chase that.” Nothing has ever stirred any sort of passion in Sakusa. Not until Hinata, and so he chased and chased until it broke him. And now here’s his sun, telling him where he goes, he’ll go too, that he will never let him get away from him again. Sakusa doesn’t have to chase Hinata anymore. No more of the moon chasing the sun. It will be an eclipse wherever they go.

Hinata then pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Sakusa’s cheek. Before his feet stand flat against the ground again, Sakusa pulls down his mask and pulls Hinata up into a kiss, the both of them smiling against each other’s lips. Then they pull away and Sakusa lifts his mask back up before they go to the register to pay for his magnet - and also the stuffed jaguar that Hinata had been eying earlier.

They shortly meet with Oikawa. Half an hour later, they’re at a locally-owned restaurant that Hinata frequents. He had taken Sakusa here the day before. They order food and when Oikawa enthusiastically approves with glittering eyes and a thumbs up after his first bite, they chat amicably and eat.

Hinata and Oikawa quickly bond over their rivalries with Ushijima and Kageyama. When Hinata discovers that Oikawa is actually The King of the Court’s senpai, he gasps and looks at Sakusa with wide eyes. “See! I told you he’s like a Grand King!” Sakusa nods, indulging his boyfriend who then continues to enthuse with Oikawa over volleyball. He’s happy to quietly listen to the conversation and to occasionally chime in with a comment. 

“Oikawa-san! Do you remember that setter dump-spike thing you did towards the end of the second set?” Oikawa hums, acknowledging Hinata’s question as he finishes his mouthful. “How did you do that? And I don’t mean the mechanics, I mean, how did you know where to dump it? Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?”

“How did you know?” Oikawa asks. It’s clear to Sakusa that the Argentine setter is teasing Hinata, but his boyfriend has a tendency to be gullible. It’s an endearing trait, part of that earnest personality that Sakusa loves so much. Hinata’s mouth drops open but then Oikawa chuckles. “I mean, it’s important to watch what the opponent is doing, yeah, but you have to keep in mind how _they_ see _you_ too.”

That seems to have a profound effect on Hinata, as he doesn’t reply for a couple of moments.

“Man, it’s a shame I didn’t meet you earlier, chibi-kun,” says Oikawa with a wistful sigh. “You said you were born in Miyagi, right?”

Hinata nods. “Yup, then packed up and moved to Tokyo when I was seven!”

“Ah well, maybe in another life I could have played with you,” then Oikawa smirks, “or played _against_ you.”

“There’s still a chance for that to happen,” Sakusa adds. He slings an arm over the back of Hinata’s chair and looks at Oikawa challengingly. “If the three of us make it to the National team, that is.”

Oikawa shakes his head dismissively but politely. “Nah, I mean, once that was my dream. But I’ve always wanted to play in the foreign leagues. I’m actually hoping to become a naturalised Argentine citizen.”

“That’s so cool!” Hinata gushes and Sakusa swears that he can see Oikawa’s self-esteem increase every time Hinata associates the word ‘cool’ with him. “Then that means we’ll play against each other in the Olympics!”

Oikawa grins. “Sounds good to me. I have unfinished business with Japan.”

After dinner and exchanging social media accounts and phone numbers, Hinata and Sakusa take Oikawa back to his hotel. They then take a moonlight stroll through Rio de Janeiro, enjoying their second to last night together. Music fills the nightly air and the lights colour the city. Hinata holds onto Sakusa’s arm as they walk, exchanging soft smiles and gentle laughter.

Saturday is the lazy day in bed Hinata promised him on Tuesday. They cuddle, they fuck, they sleep, and they do it all over again. 

“I’ve always loved these, you know?” Hinata murmurs. He tenderly kisses each of the moles on Sakusa’s back as the man lays on his front. Hinata can feel his lover shudder under his touch, not out of discomfort, but rather out of the unfamiliarity of a new sensation. “Your whole body is like a night sky and your moles are stars that I make constellations out of.”

“If my body is the night sky and my moles are the stars, then what is the moon?”

“The curve of your smile.”

Sakusa melts at his touch.

Then dreaded Sunday comes and Sakusa feels like a schoolboy. It’s nearly tomorrow and he doesn’t want to go.

“I wish you didn’t have to go so soon,” Hinata says, a small frown forming on his lips.

“If we did things your way, Shouyou, I would never leave your side,” Sakusa replies, echoing the same words Hinata told him that night in April. His voice is slightly muffled by the mask he wears but Hinata understands him regardless.

“Would that be so bad?” Hinata asks, playing along.

“Not at all.”

Sakusa’s blissful week in Rio comes to an end and now they sit together in the departure lounge of the airport, waiting. Hinata rests his head on Sakusa’s shoulder and holds his hand, rubbing his thumb in small circles against his skin, as he hums a soft song under his breath.

The past week was truly a dream. Their days were filled with the shimmering sea and soft sand, with spontaneity and adventure as Hinata introduced Rio, the _real_ Rio, to Sakusa. Days for volleyball, Polaroid photos, and songs played through the intimate sharing of earphones. 

Their nights were reserved for sweet nothings exchanged in Portuguese and Japanese as they became more familiar with each other’s bodies, marvelling at what made the other completely unravel underneath them. Nights for twilight pillow talk and gentle caresses and soft kisses after sex. 

It’s a dream neither of them wish to wake up from.

“Now calling for first class passengers for flight SK016 to Dubai.” The announcement comes through on the tannoy, bringing them back to their reality. Sakusa doesn’t stand up immediately. Instead, he remains in his seat, selfishly making every moment with Hinata last.

“Kiyoomi…”

“I know.”

They stand and Hinata throws his arms around Sakusa’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Sakusa’s arms reflexively wrap around Hinata’s waist, pulling him close so that their chests are flushed against each other. He can smell Hinata’s lemongrass and mandarin body wash on his skin, the clean cotton scent of his freshly washed clothes, and inhales it all in, hoping it’ll last until Hinata comes home in April.

Their noses brush against each other when they break away, though neither put much more space between them than that, their temples resting against each other. Sakusa looks down at Hinata’s eyes. God he’s never going to get tired of looking at his eyes. Against the sunlight, his eyes look like maple syrup, sweet and rich in colour and perfectly framed by Hinata’s thick lashes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Sakusa starts to walk away when he realises Hinata still has a hold on his hand. They exchange sweet smiles as they slowly pull away, until it’s only their pinkies that are linked.

“I’ll come home to you soon, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Then they let go.

Thirty six hours later, Sakusa is home. After he showers, he begins methodically unpacking his luggage, putting all of his clothes into his laundry basket and placing all of his products back in their rightful place. He’s missing a shirt, but he hasn’t had the chance to unpack his carry-on yet. It’s not until he gets to the bottom of his luggage that he sees an unfamiliar plastic bag. 

His curiosity gets to the better of him and he peeks inside, spying a familiar shirt with mandarin coloured tigers and olive green dragons. Sakusa smiles fondly as he smells the fresh, citrusy scent of clementines and lemons, transporting him back to the other side of the world.

> S. KIYOOMI: [attached photo of Sakusa wearing Hinata’s shirt]  
> S. KIYOOMI: I think it looks better on you than it does on me.

He waits, waits, waits until his phone buzzes in his hand. He’s quick to open it up.

> H. SHOUYOU: [attached photo of Hinata wearing Sakusa’s shirt]  
> H. SHOUYOU: Yeah, I agree, your shirt does look better on me than on you.

Sakusa smiles, completely and utterly smitten by the man who stole his shirt, but was kind and considerate enough to replace it with one of his own.

> S. KIYOOMI: I miss you.  
> H. SHOUYOU: I miss you too.

**december 2017**

“And the coolest thing happened after we lost! Nice proposed to Heitor! And then…” Hinata continues talking about his last official beach volleyball match and Sakusa listens intently as he prepares vegetables for dinner in the communal kitchen of the Jackals’ dormitory. 

They talk at least twice a week, sometimes three times if they rearrange certain things in their schedules and routines. With the two of them so busy, it’s a miracle they can even talk. And it’s only by luck that both Sakusa and Hinata are morning people, so if one calls the other when they wake up, then it’s only a twelve hour difference, meaning for the other, it’s early evening. Sakusa knew this long distance relationship doesn’t come without its difficulties, but he’s surprised at how _easy_ it has been for them. Then again, he and Hinata rarely argue anyway. 

“Did my Christmas present arrive yet?” Sakusa asks, once Hinata finishes with his account of the day.

“Not yet. Did my present arrive for you?”

Sakusa frowns. “No, not yet either.” Damn these international shipping estimates. Sakusa can never quite tell when to send a package or a card. It either arrives weeks before its estimated date or weeks after it. 

They talk some more and it dawns on Sakusa that he’s wrong. It’s not about the relationship being easy. The wait between Facetime and phone calls isn’t easy, sleeping alone isn’t easy, the miscommunication and misunderstandings aren’t easy. But Hinata makes him feel like he’s easy to love. And it’s easy to love Hinata. With that as their foundation, they can overcome anything.

**march 2018  
sakusa, age twenty-two  
** **hinata, age twenty-one**

“Hey, hey, hey! I think that’s Hinata!” Bokuto calls out, holding his hand flat against his forehead, as if it’ll help him see better into the distance. Next to him, Akaashi turns his head to look at the double doors where new arrivals come through to be picked up Really, he and Bokuto are both at this point in their relationship with Hinata.

Akaashi watches curiously, then the doors slide open and there’s a young man, with bright, flame-kissed hair grinning and waving at them. In his arms, he carries a bouquet of succulents and Akaashi suspects the unconventional floral arrangement is for Sakusa. Flowers die too quickly, have the tendency to be messy, and require too much maintenance for someone with a busy schedule, so succulents are perfect for a professional athlete like Sakusa. 

A smile appears on Akaashi’s lips and the former-Fukurodani students jog to meet each other halfway. Hinata collides into them, throwing both arms around their bodies, hugging them tight.

“Bokuto-san! Akaashi-san!” He cries out happily.

“You’ve grown taller and stronger!” Bokuto says proudly, slapping Hinata’s back.

Akaashi feels squished between the two heavy masses of muscles. Yes, taller and stronger, but the latter feels like an understatement. Literally. Akaashi can feel Hinata’s strength through his hug, though something tells him that Hinata isn’t even using his full strength, or even consciously applying it. God, he went to Rio, already a monster, and came back a titan. And the man is only twenty one. Hinata really knows how to make Akaashi feel older than he actually is.

Still, Akaashi is happy to see his former kouhai and feels just as proud of him as Bokuto does. 

“Kiyoomi doesn’t suspect anything, does he?” Hinata asks afterwards, walking in between his friends as they leave the train station.

Bokuto shakes his head and grins brightly at him. “Nope! He still thinks you’re coming back home next month.”

“And Motoya-san?” 

“He’s keeping Sakusa-san company,” Akaashi answers. “Just as you planned, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata had been home for the past three days, having been home in Tokyo and spending time with his mother and sister before travelling down to Osaka for Sakusa’s birthday as a grand romantic gesture. The birthday present? Hinata Shouyou himself. And also an author-signed copy of Sakusa’s favourite book as a bonus.

In the restaurant, Komori eagerly awaits Hinata’s arrival. Not only for Sakusa’s sake, but his own too. Unlike his cousin, he hasn’t seen his best friend in two years. Sure, they facetime and text often but there’s nothing quite like a hug from the sun. That’s one of the things he misses most from Hinata: his warm hugs. 

Komori is quite good at keeping secrets and being discreet. He made sure he sat in the seat that faces the clock, so that he doesn’t have to rely on his phone to tell the time, and as luck would have it, Sakusa’s back faces the entrance, so can’t see those who enter and leave the restaurant. He half-listens to the conversation that his cousin and aunt have as he eats through his appetiser, patiently waiting for a head of orange hair to come through the door.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he gingerly fishes it out, glancing down at the screen in his lap.

> H. SHOUYOU: 2 minutes out! How is he?  
> K. MOTOYA: The usual, but he suspects nothing 😈  
> H. SHOUYOU: Good 😼

Komori never knew that two minutes could feel so long. Then he sees him. He sees Hinata, flanked by Bokuto and Akaashi, approaching the entrance of the restaurant, holding a bouquet of succulents. He tries not to squirm in his seat. No matter his own excitement to see Hinata again, he’s not about to ruin the surprise he’s organised for his boyfriend. Wow. Hinata’s _boyfriend._

Sayuri meets Komori’s gaze and there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. She clears her throat and hides her smile behind a napkin that she uses to dab the corners of her mouth. 

Then the doors open and Hinata walks in, with the sunlight behind him, it produces a certain kind of radiance around Hinata, making him look like the protagonist- no- _a knight_ in the books that Komori would catch Sakusa reading when they were children.

Behind him, by the entrance, Akaashi holds his phone up, capturing this soon-to-be precious moment on film while Bokuto holds the bouquet for Hinata.

“Kiyoomi.” His name is whispered like a prayer and Sakusa stills in his seat. “I’m home.”

For a moment, Sakusa forgets how to breathe. The earth starts to shift and change and he feels his heart beat faster, reminding him how alive he is.

Then he pushes himself to his feet and turns around, his eyes meeting Hinata’s. Then one step, then two, then three and then Hinata jumps into Sakusa’s arms who spins them around happily. They forget their surroundings but other restaurant attendees watch the young couple with fondness and endearment - some of them even cheer. _Young love,_ they muse to themselves.

“But I thought you weren’t coming back until April?” Sakusa asks as he sets Hinata back down on the ground. 

“I moved my flights up so I could surprise you!” Sakusa’s eyes widen at that, then heat rushes to his cheeks, tinting them a deep shade of pink and he casts his eyes to the ground, in an effort to hide his sheepishness. “Couldn’t have done it with everyone’s help.”

“Well you definitely succeeded on the surprise front…” He murmurs and Hinata laughs. A part of Komori wants to run in and hug the both of them but he stays glued to his seat. There’s a time and a place, he reminds himself. Komori would hate it if this were him and Suna, and someone interrupted their long-awaited reunion. Komori is a selfish person, but not today. Today is for Sakusa and Hinata, his best friends.

“I’m home, Kiyoomi,” Hinata whispers to him with a bright smile. He pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses Sakusa’s cheek. “Happy birthday, meu carinho.”

Sakusa has stars in his eyes and a curved moon for a smile as he softly says, _“Okaeri.”_

**november 2018  
** **sakusa, age twenty-two  
** **hinata, age twenty-two**

The journey to the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium is a six and a half hours drive. The Jackals left Osaka at seven o’clock in the morning and aim to arrive in Tokyo at two in the afternoon, three if there’s a considerable amount of traffic on the road. That gives them at least two hours of rest and warmups after they arrive at the venue. For a team that’s known for its loud camaraderie between its teammates on-court, there’s a sense of calm amongst them on the bus. But it’s not nervousness, it’s concentration. They’re challengers, they’ve conquered their nerves.

Bokuto sleeps with his headphones on for most of the journey there. It’s his pregame ritual, he tells Hinata when they get on the bus. As Akaashi once told him after the Mujinazaka match during high school, he needed to find a consistent and effective way to get himself in the right mindset before a game. 

It turns out, music is the key. Bokuto listens to his personalised feel good playlist on Spotify before every game and it multiples his confidence tenfold. That, and he also calls his fiance, Akaashi before every game.

Atsumu varies how he passes his time. Sometimes, he’ll watch match clips of the opponents they’re about to face - even though he’s watched them several times already in match prep. Other times he’ll nap and then eat some food and then nap again, though this is usually reserved for exceptionally long journeys that exceed eight hours.

Usually, he talks with his teammates and gauges their overall wellbeing as he does so, judging if he needs to adjust his sets for them or he’ll watch any downloaded episodes or movies on his tablet. 

Sakusa passes the time by either napping or reading books on his Kindle - “How can ya read without feeling sick, Omi-kun?!” Atsumu once cried out - as he listens to music on his earphones. Before Hinata joined the Black Jackals, Sakusa usually sits alone by choice, unless Atsumu decided to be more of an incessant pest than he usually is and sits with him. Now that he and Hinata wear the same uniform, a bold and proud number 15 and 21 on their black and gold jerseys, he has someone he wants to sit with.

“Are you nervous about your debut game?”

“Yeah,” Hinata replies without looking up from his tablet.

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “You are?”

“I’m nervous, but I’m not afraid.” Hinata doesn’t elaborate further, but he doesn’t need to. Sakusa understands his words perfectly. Nerves are natural to feel, but fear has no place in a game. Fear is a hindrance and once you’re loose from its shackles, there’s no telling what feats you’ll achieve, what heights you’ll soar to.

The MSBY Black Jackals soon arrive in Tokyo, where they’re due to play against the Schweiden Adlers in their home arena. There’s something rather poetic about it, Hinata thinks. The way he and Sakusa are to have their fated showdown with their greatest rivals on the same court from their years in high school. Hinata is determined to come on top. He will be the victor and he will do it with Sakusa at his side. 

Together, they can tear down the sky and all of its stars.

“Kiyoomi, do you remember the dream you promised me?” Hinata asks as they stand in the wings, waiting to be called out into the court.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Then they walk out, the bright lights of the Tokyo Gymnasium are almost blinding and the cheers and roars of the crowds stir a thunder in Hinata’s heart. He casts his eyes around and sees his mother and sister in the section reserved for the friends and family of the players. As it’s his debut match, he’s given two extra tickets on top of the two he already has, so he uses it for Komori and his fiance Suna. And as Akaashi is engaged to Bokuto, he also sits with them. He waves excitedly, greeting them until his attention is drawn by a yell that even the crowd doesn’t drown out.

“HINATAAAAAAA!” Wait, was that Konoha-san?! Hinata swears that he just heard Konoha-san. If only he could spot him as quickly as he did with his family and Suna and Akaashi. 

Konoha sits with the rest of the Fukurodani alumnus. There was no way that they were going to miss this game. 

“Where’s Yukie? The game’s about to start any minute,” Sarukui says as he watches the warmups.

“She’s buying more onigiri from Onigiri Miya before it all gets sold out,” replies Anahori as he shuffles into the row, sitting next to Onaga. “I passed her as I was coming up here.”

“What about Kaori-san?” 

“She’s here somewhere, though she’s technically working,” Konoha answers. “She’s a sports promoter, y’know. She’s probably sitting wherever Kuroo is right now.” 

The Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium is filled to the brim, half of the crowd wears black and gold for the Jackals and the other half wears white, purple, and orange for the home team, for the Schweiden Adlers. The team mascots, Jackasuke and Adloo hype up the crowd by doing little stunts and encourage the crowd to cheer louder as the lineups are introduced.

“What did I miss?” Yukie asks, shuffling into the row, with a bag of onigiri.

“Nothing! They’re just doing introductions,” Komi answers.

“And in a surprising move, the Black Jackals are resting their main cannon, Oliver Barnes, today,” the commentators say. “Instead, they’re starting the number twenty one, the newcomer Hinata Shouyou in his spot opposite the setter. Today is his debut game. I expect they’ve put Hinata Shouyou in as an all-rounder.”

“HINATA!!” Konoha calls out again, though this time, everyone joins him. 

The game begins with a mighty serve from Kageyama and Konoha shudders at the sound of the setter’s hand smacking the volleyball. It flies over the net, and for a moment, it looks as if it’ll be a service ace, then Hinata receives it cleanly by lunging forward, arms outstretched.

“Oh my God…” Sarukui says under his breath. They watch as Hinata quickly moves after bumping it. He runs up to the net, his feet like thunder as he pushes off from the ground, one arm stretched out in front, like an aerial guide, while the other is pulled back like a bow.

“He’s… flying, he’s really flying,” Konoha murmurs like it’s a prayer. 

The man with clementine hair soars through the air with sunshine for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and it’s in! The shuddering sound of a volleyball cleanly smacking the court floor echoes throughout the entire arena, stunning the crowds into stupefied silence. The only other sound that can be heard is Hinata’s feet landing back on the ground.

Then he raises both arms high to the skies like they’re wings. And with the way he flew just then, they may as well be wings.

“I’m here!” He cries out, smiling brightly.

“WELCOME HOME!” Fukurodani shouts back at him, grinning wildly.

Down on the court, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kageyama Tobio, and Hoshiumi Kourai watch as the Black Jackals’ newcomer cheers. _Took you long enough_ , is the shared thought between them as they grin to themselves.

It’s a tense first set, Hinata expected nothing less from the perennial champions of the V.League, but ultimately, the Black Jackals take it. He wonders if the game is as fun to watch as it is to play it. Hinata would have enjoyed playing against his rivals with any team, but how fortunate he is to be able to play on the same team as his close friend, his senpai, and his lover. 

Then Adlers take the second set.

“C’mon, Kiyo-chan, do the rest of us a favour and have some sort of weak point, would you?” Komori says, feeling uneasy as he watches his cousin play with a renewed sense of ferocity during the third set. 

“Isn’t Hinacchi his weakness?” Suna asks.

“Look at him, if anything, playing with Shou-chan is firing him up,” replies Komori. Hoshiumi serves, forcing Atsumu to have first touch. He receives it and sends it to Hinata, who then, in a motion so fluid it rivals water, tosses to Sakusa who spikes it into the back left corner. Komori shudders. “Man... That’s going to bite us in the ass in a couple of weeks.”

“Maybe we should have tried to recruit Hinacchi for Paper Mills, he’d fit in right away. Plus, he’d look good in blue,” Suna says, but then Komori shakes his head. 

“No, I mean, as much as I would love to play with Hinata again, it doesn’t mean as much to me as it does to my cousin.” Komori smiles as he watches his best friends playing on the court below them. “Kiyo-chan’s never gotten especially passionate about anything, but once he starts something, he will always see it through to the end, no matter how long it takes him.”

In spite of Komori’s harmless jokes and friendly teasing about the subject, he understands why it took Sakusa thirteen years to confess to Hinata. Before Hinata, Sakusa had no one. Ryota and Sayuri were always working and his much older siblings never took much interest in their youngest sibling. Even Komori didn’t really know, much less like, his cousin. He thought that Sakusa was difficult to like. Sakusa was too much and yet not enough simultaneously. 

Then Hinata Shouyou came along and showed how easy it was to not just like, but to love Sakusa. He loves like sunlight - warm, bright, and magical - and no one wants to lose the person that showed them the sun after a long night. And so Sakusa waited and chased, and waited and chased some more. Now the sun and moon stand on the same side of the court, like some strange, long-awaited solar eclipse. 

The sight brings a lightness to Komori’s heart.

And also the same sickly sweet feeling building in the back of his throat he experienced as a child whenever Hinata and Sakusa shared a tender moment around him.

Driven by their hunger for victory, the gluttonous Jackals take the third set, and then finally the fourth when Bokuto slams the winning shot on the Adlers’ side of the court, ending the deuce before it could gain momentum. The cheers and music are loud but all Sakusa can hear is the sound of his heart pounding hard against his ribcage, as if it’s threatening to break it. Then he flops onto the ground, the adrenaline that carried him through the game finally abandons him. 

Hinata sits next to him, legs crossed as his fingers affectionately run through Sakusa’s curls. “We did it, meu carinho,” he whispers, then laughs joyfully. “We did it!”

Sakusa pushes himself to sit up so he can hold Hinata in his arms. Forget the sweat, forget the exhaustion, forget the victory. How lucky Sakusa Kiyoomi is, to sit on the orange court, with the love of his life in his arms, having played a game with his closest friends, a game he’s satisfied with. 

When Hinata is called over by Romero to meet his son Rubens, Sakusa fondly watches him interact with the young boy. Hinata has always been good with children. He loves them and they love him. It almost feels like a glimpse into their future together, Sakusa thinks, then blushes at his own thoughts. Maybe one day. But he can’t deny that the sight kindles a unique warmth in his heart. 

After all of the post-match interviews, and after agreeing to meet with their friends and family for drinks and food, _and after_ taking a quick shower and getting dressed at the hotel, Hinata and Sakusa finally have a quiet moment to themselves as they sit in the back of the Uber that Atsumu called for them. Bokuto had already gone home with Akaashi after the match, but promised they’ll join.

And Sakusa knows that really means that they’ll be the last ones to arrive and the first ones to leave. Contrary to popular belief, Bokuto isn’t much for large gatherings. Maybe he used to be, in high school, but not so much anymore. Even a people-person like him have a limit on their social battery. 

Atsumu sits in the front, chatting with the driver while Sakusa and Hinata sit in the backseats. Hinata rests his head on Sakusa’s shoulder, catching some sleep before they spend the rest of the evening with their friends and family. Truthfully, Sakusa wants nothing more than to be selfish with him. To celebrate their victory and his debut in their own way. In a way that no one else but Sakusa can offer Hinata.

But he reminds himself that he has his whole life to be selfish with Hinata. He could give him up for a few hours. 

Sakusa rests his cheek on Hinata’s head, listening to each breath as he rubs his hand with his thumb. It’s humbling moments like these that Sakusa realises how much his life is affected by the clementine-haired boy grown to man. How much he has learned about the world and about himself. He tries to imagine a world where he never grew up with Hinata, then perishes the thought. No, don’t dwell on such a dull existence, he tells himself.

His world began with Hinata and eventually, when their time together on this earth is up, his world will end with him. 

Hinata Shouyou is the one who showed him that the sun is more than its cruelty and harshness, the sun is also kindness and warmth. Sakusa knows that the sun is also a star. And then spent fourteen years of his life learning that the sun is also a human being. 

How lucky Sakusa Kiyoomi is to have lived as long as he has.

Lucky to no longer be alone and to have friends. 

Lucky to meet the sun when he was eight years old. 

Lucky to love the sun, where he once disliked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, reading my own fic: oh my god they finally got together 😭😭😭
> 
> come cry with me on: [twitter](https://twitter.com/kouushu) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/omihina)!! i hope to have the next (and last) chapter sometime between within the next month but i am a uni student so just bear with me pls <3
> 
> please leave a comment and let me know what u think!! reading comments makes my day :')
> 
> also massive thank you to [kimiko](https://twitter.com/riceboikita) for the art!! go check out her work and support her <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, planning this fic: so 4 chapters will be enough for what i want to write  
> me, now: 🤡🤡🤡
> 
> so uhh, this isn't the final chapter of htgws! if u follow me on twt, u will know that i have struggled on the pacing of this chapter and well, the only solution to my problem without sacrificing scenes i want to write is to, well, add an extra chapter!! so this isn't the end of htgws yet so thank u for ur patience and i hope u enjoy <3

#  **blooming:** **  
**

###  **his love, like rain, falls over me and i begin to bloom  
  
**

**may 2019  
sakusa, age twenty-three  
** **hinata, age twenty-two**

There’s a comfort that can only be known when one shares their bed with their lover.

Sakusa wonders how he endured sleeping alone for twenty three years of his life. It’s unthinkable, now that he knows of the tenderness that comes with starting his day and ending his night with Hinata laying by his side, feeling the comforting warmth of his body next to his own. It’s not the first time they’ve slept next to each other, after all, they’ve done this since they were eight years old. 

But this… this is different.

Sakusa is more conscious now. He’s more aware of the way Hinata curls into his chest, as if he’s trying to listen to his heartbeat, to fall asleep to the soothing rhythm, of the way Hinata sighs contentedly when he wraps his arms around Sakusa. There’s a complete surrender between them. Not a surrender where one asserts themselves over the other, but a surrender wherein they trust each other with their most vulnerable selves.

As it turns out, Sakusa is a light but long sleeper, an odd and awful combination. He wakes to any sound or movement, but longs to sleep for longer. Hinata is the opposite. He’s a deep but short sleeper, once he’s out, he’s asleep until he wakes up at the time dictated by his body clock or his alarm with no chance of falling back into sweet slumber. 

Sometimes, on the rare occasion that Sakusa wakes before his alarm (and therefore, before Hinata), he stays by Hinata’s side and watches him sleep. He tries to memorise the fine details of his face, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it, or the last. On those days, he wonders how good he must’ve been in his past life to be lucky enough to have Hinata in this life. 

Sakusa must have been a saint to be able to share his bed with the sun.

In his current state, Hinata looks less like the noonday sun and more like a soft sunrise. Gentle and cool with the promise of bright and warmth. The common misconception about Hinata is that he came into this world as the sun. That he came into the world already warm, bright, and magical. 

And maybe he did, Sakusa won’t correct others for thinking so. But he knows better. 

Sakusa knows that Hinata came into the world like everyone else: an ordinary person without any remarkable traits or features. But the difference is, as a child, Hinata looked up at the sun and decided he could be better. He could be warmer, be brighter, be more magical. And so he was. And now he is. 

Some days, Hinata is the one who wakes up first. And he too spends the time between waking up and the alarm by watching his beloved sleep. He always wants to reach out and touch Sakusa, just to make sure he’s truly there. But Hinata holds himself back. He doesn’t dare do anything that could disturb the gentle peace painted on his lover’s face. So he moves to leave, except he doesn’t because he can’t.

Hinata is sure that in everyone else’s eyes, he’s the spoiled one, but in fact, the opposite is true. Sakusa is much softer than he lets on. If only they could see him now, how he weighs Hinata down with his arms. If only they could witness how sleep still clings to his voice as he murmurs, “Stay,” against Hinata’s skin, in the curve between his neck and shoulder.

How could Hinata refuse him? He can’t, so he stays in the warmth of Sakusa’s arms a little longer. 

Eventually, when the alarm shatters their morning tranquility, they rise and prepare for the day together. Not only do they share a bed, but they also share the same routine. They wake up at six thirty together, and if it’s not raining, they go for an early morning run. But if the skies decide to cry that day, they stay inside and do yoga together. 

It’s Sunday, so there’s no practice today, but their day is far from relaxed. They have a full agenda planned.

“Shouyou, there’s still time to change our minds. We don’t have to share an apartment with _him.”_ Sakusa hisses the last word and glares at Atsumu through the rear view mirror, as if he’s vermin he discovered looting in the pantry - which happened once when Bokuto accidentally left an open box of cookies in the dorm’s pantry for a week. Sakusa refused to step outside of his room until they purged the kitchen and disinfected it three times with Hinata’s supervision and direction.

“Don’t be like that, Omi-kun! I ain’t that bad of a roommate!” Atsumu says defensively. He leans forward from the backseat of the car, is then scolded, and told to sit back by Sakusa. Atsumu folds his arms over his chest like a petulant child and he turns his attention to Hinata, who is often the unfortunate mediator between them. “Shouyou-kun, you’ve been living with me for the past ten months, I haven’t been that bad, have I?”

“Of course not, Kiyoomi is just exaggerat--”

“No, Shouyou, he really is awful. He’s only behaved around you. He broke three of the ground rules I laid down the morning after I moved in,” Sakusa says in disgust.

“He’s joking, if he really didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have agreed in the first place,” says Hinata with a laugh. “Besides, you’re one of his best friends, Atsumu-san!”

“That’s what I keep telling him but he just ain’t having any of it,” Atsumu says, shaking his head. “Breaks my heart every time.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. There’s no need to give Atsumu more fuel for his fire. Still, Hinata’s not wrong. Atsumu is, sadly, one of Sakusa’s closest friends outside of Hinata and Komori. He just won’t freely admit it without alcohol in his system. 

Ten minutes pass and then Sakusa parks outside of their first appointment for the day.

Every team member is entitled to their own room within the provided dormitories, but they are welcome to seek accommodation elsewhere. Members, such as Meian, with families of their own usually live in their own house or apartment within the city. But the popular option for rookies and those who have just started their professional careers is to save money by staying in the dormitories. 

After the season ended a month ago, Bokuto moved out of the dormitories and into an apartment where Akaashi joined him. Considering that the two are to marry in the next three months, it was expected, but the gap that Bokuto left was not. The dormitory felt a little quieter after he moved out, and not in a comfortable way. That left the remaining three thinking the same thing: _We should move out too._

That brings them to the present, standing outside an apartment, waiting for the rental property agent to tour them around.

“This is so cool! This is the first time I’ve been apartment hunting,” Hinata says, unable to contain his excitement. “Washijo-san and Lucio-san arranged accommodation for me in Brazil, so I never had to go apartment hunting.”

“Same here,” Atsumu says. “I was recruited by the Jackals right after finishing high school, so I went from living at home straight to living in the dormitories.”

“I guess that’s something we all have in common,” Sakusa adds. Sure, he lived in his own apartment while he was in university, but then again, that was an apartment gifted to him by his parents. He never had to search for accommodation. And like Atsumu, he was recruited after graduating, so he moved into the Jackal’s dorms.

The agent soon arrives and tours them around the apartment. They shortly leave after realising that the photos on the website made the property seem much larger than it actually is. They continue apartment hunting for the rest of the morning, stopping by Onigiri Miya for lunch, before continuing their hunt in the early afternoon.

Something that Sakusa never anticipated was how much he enjoys the tedious ordeal of apartment hunting. There’s just something warm and domestic about viewing spaces and imagining how he and Hinata will fit in and live together - oh, and Atsumu too. 

They all have their respective focuses during their apartment hunts. 

Naturally, Sakusa inspects the apartment itself, checking it not only for cleanliness but for maintenance. The last thing they need is to move in and realise they’ve been duped because of agency or landlord negligence. Hinata deals with talking to the agencies and the landlords. His charisma really shines and he effortlessly negotiates lower deposits or insurance fees. 

Mathematics was the one subject in school that Atsumu really excelled at and contrary to popular belief, Atsumu is rather frugal with his money, and so he deals with the finances for the three of them. He calculates how to split the rent in three ways, how much bills will cost them on average, and if the apartment in general is worth the cost.

Their second to last appointment appears to be the most promising property they’ve seen all day. It’s a decently-sized apartment, boasting two bedrooms and an open living space with a system kitchen. It’s only a twenty minute drive to the arena - or fifty minutes on public transport. Bonus features of the apartment include a veranda and a designated parking space for the apartment.

“There’s gotta be something wrong with this apartment, the price seems too low for what it’s offering,” Sakusa says quietly to his friends while the agent is on a phone call. “I mean, the rent wouldn’t be too bad, but no deposit fees? Or guarantor fee? Seems suspicious.”

“I mean, she did say that it’s to help young people, since most of them wouldn’t be able to provide a guarantor that isn’t their parents. She seems pretty sincere and I’m usually a good judge of character,” Hinata says.

“Usually?” Atsumu questions.

“Ushijima-san, he and I didn’t start off on the right foot,” Hinata answers with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Anyways, Akaashi-san recommended this agency since it’s the same one he and Bokuto-san rent through. And you trust Akaashi-san, don’t you?”

Atsumu nods and turns back to Sakusa. “Plus, you’re just used to Tokyo rent prices. Which is weird because you never had to pay rent, you just paid bills.” He shakes his head. “Listen, the math checks out, trust me.”

“It sounds like you’re telling me that I’m overreacting.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Sakusa narrows his eyes at Atsumu, who just rolls his. “You can glare at me all you like, but I guess that means you don’t want to know when this place was last fumigated.” Atsumu clicks his tongue. “Shame really, I thought you’d be interested.”

Hinata sighs while Sakusa stands there, eyebrow twitching in irritation. He clears his throat. “Out of interest, when was this place last fumigated?”

“Nah, ya wouldn’t want to know, after all, ya don’t seem to trust me when I’m telling ya that this is the best place we’ve seen throughout the entire time we’ve been apartment hunting,” says Atsumu, turning around with his arms folded over his chest.

Sakusa’s twitch moves from his eyebrow to his right eye. “Miya… tell me when this place was last fumigated… _please.”_ He painfully winces out the last word.

“Hmm, ya gotta be nicer to me than that, Omi-kun! Yer dating Shouyou-kun, surely ya would’ve learned some nice manners from him?”

“Atsumu-san…” Hinata sighs but Atsumu gestures for him to not interject, revelling in Sakusa’s irritation.

“A-Atsumu-kun, please… tell me when this apartment was last fumigated… _please,”_ Sakusa pleads painfully, adding a second ‘please’ just for good measure.

“And what am I to ya?” Atsumu cups his hand around his ear.

 _A pain in my ass._ “One of my best friends…”

“See, was that so hard, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu laughs. “Alright, kiddin’ aside, I think the real cherry on top for ya would be the fact that this apartment was last fumigated three months ago. Freshly disinfected just for ya!”

Sakusa turns to Hinata, complete seriousness written on his face. “I’m sold.” Then he looks over his shoulder. “Thanks, Atsumu. Kind of. You’re still an ass.”

“And so are you and that’s why we’re such good friends.”

“Debatable.”

“Shouyou-kun, please teach yer boyfriend some manners.”

Hinata laughs. “I’ll try, Atsumu-san.”

Two weeks later, the three of them carry boxes into their new apartment.

🏐

“Your mother has a girlfriend now? That’s so cool! What’s her name? How did they meet?” Hinata asks, as he and Sakusa walk hand in hand through the outdoor car park. 

It’s raining, and Sakusa holds an umbrella above their heads.

“Ishida Atsuko. I think they used to be roommates at university…” Sakusa goes on to explain how they were not only roommates, but close friends during their college years. Then life took them in different directions after graduation and they fell out of contact. They lived their separate lives. It wasn’t until they were guests at a mutual friend’s sixtieth birthday, thirty five years after they parted ways, that they reconnected. 

It’s the kind of love story Hollywood makes movies from. Or at least, _should_ make movies from. There’s not many, if any, sapphic stories focused on two East Asian women of an older age.

“Aww, I’m really happy for her. We should arrange to have dinner together one day,” Hinata says.

“That was my mother’s thinking too. She and Ishida-san are happy to come down to Osaka. We just need to name the date.”

Hinata considers this for a moment, using his free hand to hold his chin thoughtfully. “Well, how about the weekend that Atsumu-san is out to visit Aran-san? That way they can stay for the weekend and we can have more time with them. What do you think?”

“Good thinking. Keep my mother and Atsumu separated. I don’t need him embarrassing me in front of her,” Sakusa says.

Hinata laughs and shakes his head fondly at his boyfriend. “I didn’t suggest it because of that, but I suppose it’ll be good to keep you separated on this occasion.”

A couple of minutes pass while they get a trolley before they arrive at their destination’s storefront: Ikea. 

For the past two weeks, after moving in, they’ve been sleeping on a futon that they borrowed from Bokuto and Akaashi. Atsumu, the bastard, already had a bed and didn’t miss his chance to tease Sakusa for his minor oversight. 

Ikea, Sakusa learns, is a one way labyrinth of mystery, filled with different displays and aesthetics all designed to keep customers wandering further in and buying things they never planned on purchasing. He and Hinata are no exception to this. They entered the store with the singular purpose to buy a bed and a mattress, and yet their trolley so far is filled with a floor lamp, bathroom mats, several fake plants, and a new set of crockery and cutlery. It’s another hour before they even make it to the bedroom section.

“Try this one out, Kiyoomi! It feels like lying on a marshmallow.”

Sakusa hesitates. The mask hides the grimace on his face. “Shouyou, I don’t think we’re allowed to lie on the mattresses.”

“Don’t be silly! How else are people supposed to know which mattresses to buy?” Hinata turns to lie on his side and pats the spot next to him. Sakusa looks to his left, then his right, checking that there’s no store clerks close by before he climbs up on the bed next to Hinata. He lays with his back flat against the mattress and it sinks under the weight of two professional athletes.

“I feel like I’m going to get swallowed by this mattress,” Sakusa says. He adjusts his position to lay on his side but it’s no better than lying on his back. “So this is how I meet my maker, eaten by a mattress.”

“Yeah _now_ it feels too soft, but it was fine when it was just me on the mattress!” Hinata points out. He shuffles off the mattress, allowing Sakusa to have it all to himself. “See? It feels good now, right?”

“What are you trying to say, that I’m getting fat?” Sakusa accuses.

“I never said that but…” Hinata pushes his lips into a small, teasing pucker, “I mean you do keep sneaking brigadeiro that I made and blaming it on Atsumu-san so....”

There’s a pause and Sakusa flushes under his mask. “You knew it was me?”

“Since day one, yes,” Hinata confirms with a nod.

Sakusa unhooks one mask loop from his ear, revealing an expression of guilt on his face, looking very much like a toddler caught red-handed doing something they shouldn’t. His lips curve into a small pout and his cheeks are dusted with pink. “They’re just so delicious, Shouyou, how can I _not_ eat them when they’re there?”

Hinata laughs and he falls back onto the mattress with Sakusa. They’re both awake now so he can guiltlessly caress Sakusa’s face. “I really don’t understand why everyone thinks you’re so grumpy. If only people could see how you are with me.”

“Loving you makes me gentle.”

“You were already a gentle person when I met you, Kiyoomi. Loving me has nothing to do with that.” Hinata leans in and presses a light kiss to Sakusa’s forehead. Then he hops off the mattress and holds his hand out to help Sakusa up. “C’mon! Let’s look for another mattress, we need one that both of us feel comfy in.”

Sakusa lets Hinata pull him up and once he’s on his feet, they link their pinkies together as they walk around the floor. While Hinata ooh’s and ahh’s at the various different mattresses and excitedly tells him all about the different features they offer - quilted, pillow, tufted and orthopaedic, who knew there were so many? - Sakusa just enjoys the feeling of Hinata’s little finger wrapped around his.

He’s never devoted much thought to it before, as it’s something they’ve done since the age of eight, but there’s a quiet sort of tenderness attached to how they hold each other by their pinky fingers. 

Sakusa was taught in school that memory was stored in three parts of the brain: the hippocampus, the neocortex, and the amygdala. But no one ever told him that every part of him touched by Hinata Shouyou holds memory. Sakusa’s lips remember how sweetly Hinata kisses. His eyes remember how many tears were spent crying over him. And promises made over their years together are sealed in the small vessels of their pinky fingers. 

_I’ll stand with you, always._

_I won’t stop playing volleyball._

_I will always be your friend._

_I’ll get stronger._

_I love you._

_Where you go, I go._

So no, it’s not just a way to hold hands. It’s unspoken promises that were, that are, and that will be.

When Sakusa and Hinata return home two hours later, they’re left with the dreadful ordeal of putting together a bed. It doesn’t help that there are no worded instructions in the manual, only vague diagrams which only serve to confuse them further. Matters only worsen when Atsumu arrives home, after visiting his brother, and teases Sakusa about being unable to put together a simple bed. 

That night, Sakusa and Hinata sleep on the futon next to a half-built bed.

**1st january 2020  
sakusa, age twenty-three  
** **hinata, age twenty-three**

_There’s more snow this year,_ Sakusa thinks as he looks out of the train window, watching as the snow hugs the Japanese landscape. Fields of white stretch on and on past where the eye can no longer see and countless trees wear crowns made of snow and ice on their heads. 

Which prefecture are they in now? He’s sure they passed Shizuoka already since it’s been over half an hour since they saw Mount Fuji. And if his knowledge of geography doesn’t fail him, he estimates that they have to be in Kanagawa, which means it’s not long before they arrive in Tokyo.

Next to him, Hinata shifts in his sleep, readjusting so that his head rests against Sakusa’s chest. Sakusa wraps one arm around his boyfriend’s body, lightly caressing his side while he holds his Kindle in his other hand, rereading _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ for the third time and pretending to be shocked when Basil is brutally murdered. Sitting across them is Komori, who wears headphones, watching a Pixar movie about a rat that aspires to be a chef - Ratatouille, if Sakusa remembers correctly.

The three of them are going to visit their families for New Years, to visit the shrine together as they always have done. They arrive in Tokyo at nine thirty, but it takes them another forty five minutes via subway and bus before they get to their suburban neighbourhood. Soon, they come upon the familiar sight of the Hinata-Komori houses sitting next to each other. 

For a moment, it’s like they’ve stepped back into the past. _Their_ past. 

They can remember their spring days spent riding their bikes along this very street, racing each other. Whole summer days were spent outside in Hinata’s back garden where they played volleyball, and if it was a particularly hot day, they blew up an inflatable paddling pool and bought ice cream from the konbini one street over. In the autumn, they watched horror films under their blanket fort, holding each other in the dark. If they were lucky to have snowfall in the winter, they would play outside with Natsu and Komori’s siblings before coming inside to warm up with blankets and hot chocolate.

Ten years of their sixteen year old friendship was spent on this street. A third of their friendship forever tied to these houses. Oh how they’ve grown.

 _“Okaeri,”_ Mirai says, smiling warmly as she opens the door. “Come in, we’ve just finished preparing the batter for brunch. If you don’t hurry, the kids will use up all the batter for their pancakes,” she adds, ushering the three of them inside the house.

“Oh no they don’t- Oi! Save some for your favourite uncle! Remember I make the best bear-shaped pancakes!” Komori cries out, pushing past Sakusa and Hinata.

They’re greeted by a full house. Motoya’s older siblings are both married and have children, giving Aika and Ryuji four young grandchildren (and one on the way!), and Motoya with nieces and nephews to spoil rotten so that he can be the favourite uncle. What’s really surprising to Mirai is that it actually _works,_ the children adore him. Second to Motoya is Mirai’s own son, who is seen as the cool uncle, though there’s no biological relation between them whatsoever. 

Sakusa and Hinata greet and chat with Sayuri and her girlfriend, Atsuko, and Mirai smiles as she watches them converse amongst themselves. She remembers how during their get-togethers and family functions, Sakusa would usually be the only representative of his family. Still, arriving alone never meant that he was lonely. Hinata and Komori saw to that. 

“Nii-chan! Kiyo-nii!” Natsu calls out. Before either Sakusa or Hinata could see where she’s coming from, Natsu collides into them, pulling them both into a hug. She then apologises to Sayuri and Atsuko for the abrupt interruption.

“Have you gotten taller?” Sakusa asks, once his mother and her girlfriend leave and chat amicably with his cousins. “You look taller.”

Natsu grins and nods proudly. “I grew two whole centimeters!” She declares, sticking two fingers up in a peace sign and opening and closing them for added effect.

Seventeen years old and Natsu is the same height as Hinata is now - which, as her older brother, he isn’t too pleased about, and to save his pride, he says how the eldest siblings are often the shorter than their younger siblings. Her hair is long but pulled back a thick rope braid which crowns her head and falls over her shoulders. There’s a pinkness in her cheeks from the cold and the light tan she achieved over the summer has faded.

“I’m so proud of you for making it to the Nationals, Natsu! The three of us are staying for the rest of the week, so we’ll be able to watch your first game,” Hinata says, poking her cheek.

Then Natsu’s smile drops and she immediately shakes her head. “No, no, no, the three of you _cannot_ come! You’re like volleyball superstars! All the attention will be on you!”

“We’ll wear disguises!” 

“Unless you plan on dyeing your hair, how are you going to hide that?” Natsu asks, pointing at her brother’s clementine hair.

“Well duh, they have hats and hoodies for a reason.”

“That’s the most cliché idea for a disguise, Shouyou. Just because it works in Hollywood movies doesn’t mean it works in real life,” Sakusa says, shaking his head.

Natsu gives her brother a look which just screams, _“I told you so,”_ and Hinata lets out a childish whine. _“Kiyoomi,”_ he says, dragging out the last syllable, “you’re supposed to be on my side and back me up!”

“Shouyou, I love you, but I’m not going to fight to stay on a sinking ship.”

Natsu laughs while Hinata continues to whine, and Mirai watches the three of them fondly. She feels someone standing at her side. It only takes a single sniff of their flowery, expensive perfume to identify them. Sakusa Sayuri. “I’m glad you’re here, Sayuri-san.”

“I’m glad to be here, Mirai-san. It’s nice to be part of the occasion, rather than just having photos of it.” Sayuri says, joining her friend as they watch their children fondly. Her eyes drift down, to Sakusa’s side where Hinata stands, their pinkies linked together, as they talk to Natsu. Sayuri smiles, endeared and thankful that they’ve never grown out of that habit. 

“You’re lucky to have him,” Mirai says, referring to Kiyoomi, “he’s a good kid.”

“He’s a better son than I deserve,” Sayuri quietly says. “Not every parent is fortunate enough to receive their child’s forgiveness. Most of them don’t even realise they need it, much less deserve it.”

But Mirai shakes her head and smiles kindly at her. “You’re here now, that’s what counts. Not every parent is humble enough to start again. You and Kiyoomi have grown so much in the past three years, Sayuri-san.” She places a gentle hand on the side of her arm, a reassurance. “You’re doing well, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Oi! Shou-chan! Kiyo-chan! Nacchan! If you don’t hurry, there won’t be enough batter for you!” Komori calls out from the kitchen. 

“Don’t be greedy, Moto-nii!” Natsu cries out. She runs into the kitchen, followed shortly by Sakusa and Hinata.

Brunches are an integral part of an official Sakusa-Komori-Hinata family function, it wouldn’t feel complete without it. 

Motoya favours the classic stack of scotch pancakes, and over the years he’s improved his skills and now can confidently make bear-shaped blueberry pancakes. Kiyoomi prefers waffles as he not only enjoys using the waffle iron, but also finds personal joy in selectively and cleanly filling each square with maple syrup. 

On the other hand, Shouyou loves crepes. His topping choices are mood-dependent, but he’ll often choose sweet flavours - which are always sticky, so Sakusa is always ready with a napkin for him. This time, he opts for strawberries and cream. He drizzles the strawberry sauce in a steady zig-zag over the crepe and then squirts a swirl of whipped cream on top. Then he cuts a few strawberries and strategically positions them on the plate for increased aesthetic.

“Look, Kiyoomi!” Hinata presents his finished creation and presents it to Sakusa for final judgement, as if he’s on Masterchef. He smiles proudly, chest puffed. “Doesn’t that look good?”

“It looks almost too good to eat.” 

As if Kiyoomi will ever tell him otherwise, Mirai thinks to herself. She sighs and shakes her head fondly at them. If they haven’t grown out of their excitement for their brunches by now, they won’t grow out of them later. It’s sweet and endearing, she supposes, how as adults they can still enjoy the same things that gave them joy as a child.

After they have brunch together, the Sakusa-Komori-Hinata collective head to their local shrine to pay their respects and to make wishes. As can be expected, the shrines are crowded with locals and tourists, both foreign and national. Mirai rings the bell and presses her hands together, offering a wish to the gods above. 

When she steps back and rejoins the group, her son moves to stand next to her. Hinata looks at her with those warm, amber eyes, and smiles. “So what did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you that, Shouyou, that defeats the whole purpose,” she tells him, half scolding, half teasing as she playfully nudges her son’s arm. “Don’t think you could get me with those doe eyes of yours. You remind me of your father when you look at me like that.”

“Is that why you couldn’t look at me in the eyes after dad died?” He asks. Mirai turns to look at him, surprised at the sudden question, but Hinata just stares ahead, watching as Komori and Sakusa help the kids to ring the bell and make a wish. “It’s one of my earliest memories, y’know? My own mother isn’t able to look at me in my eyes, otherwise it’s like she’s seen a ghost.”

“S-Shouyou…” She sounds apologetic.

But Hinata turns to face her and smiles again, kind and understanding. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad or even upset. I knew you loved me, but I also knew it hurt for you to look at me sometimes. I made my peace with it as a child. But the one thing I never understood was why you never remarried or dated afterwards. Even now.”

“You’re wrong.”

Hinata raises an eyebrow at her. “You and Kiyoomi love telling me that I’m wrong.”

“What I mean is that I have dated since your father passed, I was just very discreet about it.” Then Mirai sighs, sounding neither sad nor happy. “But everyone before and after Shouhei just pale in comparison. He was the one great love of my life. I didn’t want to settle for anyone lesser and I didn’t want someone else to love me with a hundred percent when I can only offer eighty. It’s not fair to them. The only people I could love just as much were you and Natsu and I’m happy with that.”

“But you were so lonely, okaasan,” Hinata says in a small voice, almost tearful. “And you did so much for us. I mean, you sold the farm, you moved to Tokyo, and raised two young kids all on your own. Not only that, you pushed us to follow our dreams, you never once complained or discouraged us.”

Then it’s Mirai’s turn to smile in kindness and understanding. She pulls him in for a hug and gently strokes her son’s hair. “Well darling, I didn’t have much of a choice. I couldn’t stay in Miyagi. And since I became estranged from my parents after marrying your father, I couldn’t go home either. So I sold everything, packed our things and started anew.” Then she places a motherly kiss on the side of his head as she pulls away. “And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Look at the life we’ve lived, the people we have in our lives because of it.”

“But how did you know to do all of that? How did you have the courage to make the leap?”

Mirai smiles as she sighs, her shoulders sinking as the tension loosens from them. “Courage isn’t about being unafraid, it’s about not letting the fear stop you.”

“And what about dad? How did you know that he was the _one_ for you? That you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, that he was worth leaving your family for? How did you know the time was right?”

“You just do. I know it sounds silly, but one day, at sunset, we were walking through a field of sunflowers. I looked at him and realised that I felt differently about him then than I did the night before. I just knew in that moment that if he got down on one knee then and there, I would’ve said yes. Little did I know that he actually planned on proposing that day.” Mirai chuckles fondly at the memory. “Why all the questions about your father, Shou? You don’t often ask about him.”

“Because of this.” Hinata pulls out a small box out of his inner jacket pocket and hands it to his mother. “I’m waiting for the right time.”

Mirai opens the box, beholding a silver signet ring with a white jade gemstone in the middle. Her eyes widen and she gasps, to which Hinata quietly shushes her. “When did you buy it?”

“Last month, when I was out Christmas shopping with Motoya-kun. I asked him to help me pick a ring since he proposed to Suna-san and all.”

“Are you going to propose today?” He shakes his head.

“No, not today, but eventually.” Hinata takes the box back, closing it as he slips it back into his pocket. Then he looks at his mother expectantly. “So what do you think? I know I don’t need your blessing, but it would be a comfort to have it.”

“Oh Shou,” Mirai cups her son’s face, elated and relieved, “I knew this day would come. Of course you have my blessing. Though, truth be told, I always thought it would be Kiyoomi proposing to you.”

“He flew all the way to Rio just to confess and ask me to be his boyfriend. Who knows what he’ll do if he proposed? No, I want to be the one to propose to him,” Hinata says, with a kind of quiet determination. 

After visiting the shrine, the Sakusa-Komori-Hinata collective return to the house to spend the afternoon together to play games together. This often involves at least one set of volleyball, since the younger kids are so excited to play with their uncles and Natsu likes testing her skill against her professional older brothers before being called inside since it’s too cold.

Then in the evening, Komori leaves with his parents to have dinner with Suna and his father. Suna, who is also in Tokyo, is visiting his father for the New Year. His parents divorced when he was twelve years old and his mother took him and his younger sister with her to Hyogo. Suna doesn’t talk to his father often, but he figures he should probably introduce his fiancé to him.

“How do I get him to like me?” Komori asks, shrugging his coat on and wrapping a scarf around his neck. His parents are already outside in the car, waiting for their son.

“Just be yourself, Motoya-san!” Hinata advises, to which Komori scoffs.

“‘Be yourself’? What kind of garbage idea is that?”

“Shouyou’s right, I mean, I was myself and somehow he fell in love with me,” Sakusa adds.

“You’re forgetting the part where you grew up together and the fact that Hinata is an _angel._ He’d like anyone with the personality range of a teaspoon,” Komori retorts. “It’s why he has so many friends.”

“Am I the teaspoon, Motoya?”

“Well…”

Sakusa inhales sharply. “I’ll ask again: Am I the teaspoon?”

“If the shoe fits…” Komori trails off, grinning, and clicks his tongue.

“Oh stop it, both of you,” says Hinata, rolling his eyes, too used to his role as the arbitrator between Sakusa and another person. “Just be yourself, Motoya-san, if his dad doesn’t like you, then who cares? All that matters is what Suna-san thinks of you.”

Komori chuckles and ruffles Hinata’s hair fondly, a habit he’s kept since they were children. “You’re right, Shou-chan.” He leaves, and Sakusa and Hinata return to spend the evening with the rest of the family. 

They all gather in the living room to watch a movie, the children sit on the floor while the adults occupy the sofas and armchairs. Sakusa doesn’t know what movie is playing, only that one of the kids picked it. He looks around and sees warmth and joy etched in the lines of everyone’s faces. He sees his mother holding Atsuko, shamelessly and openly displaying affection for her in a way that she never did with her ex-husband. He’s glad, relieved at the sight.

Sakusa and Hinata greedily take up an entire loveseat for themselves. Well actually, it’s more that Hinata sits on one side of the sofa, while Sakusa lays the rest of his body across the length, resting his head on his lover’s lap. Hinata absentmindedly runs his fingers through Sakusa’s wavy hair, eliciting a pink tint in his cheeks, like watercolour paint brushed onto a wet canvas, the colour bleeding into the linen fabric. 

Sakusa smiles to himself. Familial scenes like this provide a glimpse into the life that he hopes he and Hinata will share one day. It feels so close, so tangible. But Sakusa tries not to get ahead of himself. One day, he and Hinata will have a family together. It’s no longer a hope, but a reality waiting to happen.

**24th july 2020  
sakusa, age twenty-four  
** **hinata, age twenty-four**

“When you were a kid, you and your brother shared a room and you were forced in bunk beds and you always wanted to have the top bunk but Myaa-sam wanted it too and so to be a good older brother, you pretended you wanted the bottom bunk instead so he didn’t get sad,” Bokuto states, grinning smugly as he holds eye contact with Atsumu who sits across from him, glaring. 

Akaashi leans against his husband’s back, chin resting over Bokuto’s shoulder, his cheeks pink from tipsiness. “Koutarou, that was a very specific and detailed assumption,” he murmurs, his words slurring together.

“Yeah, you sure ya wanna stick with that?” Atsumu asks, gritting his teeth.

“I know I’m right, ‘Tsum-Tsum! You pretend to be an asshole but I just know you’re a massive softie inside!” Bokuto declares proudly.

“Well?” Yaku asks, raising an eyebrow at the blond. “Is Bokuto right?”

Atsumu’s glare grows narrower and his jaw tightens before he reaches for a shot of tequila from the round table in front of them and drinks it. A cheer erupts and Akaashi gives Bokuto a congratulatory kiss while Atsumu seethes. 

“Aww! That was really sweet of you, Atsumu-san! You’re such a good brother!” Hinata chirps, smiling brightly at his friend and teammate. 

“Thanks, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu mumbles and Aran reaches for his hand, affectionately rubbing the skin with his thumb. That improves his mood a little.

He’d be in a fouler mood if Osamu was actually here to hear this. He wouldn’t let him live this down. As it is, only athletes, trainers, and coaches are allowed in the Olympic Village, though Akaashi, as Bokuto’s husband, is permitted entry. Besides, Osamu is busy with the opening of the Tokyo branch of Onigiri Miya - or rather, Onigiri Kita, affectionately named for his husband whom he married six months ago. 

A part of Atsumu wishes he and Aran went to see them tonight. There, they would be guaranteed good food and company (sans Osamu). And it would stop him from being perceived by the Jackals’ resident beam weapon. Sometimes Atsumu forgets how observant Bokuto actually is. But alas, they were a part of the Opening Ceremony - and therefore, the insane afterparty. 

The drinking game they’re playing was suggested to them by Komori, as a fun way for them to bond and to improve team synergy. After enduring his deceptively mischievous cousin for sixteen years (and counting), Sakusa should’ve known then and there not to go along with any idea Komori has. He could’ve been in his and Hinata’s room having an afterparty of their own but no, Sakusa has a social butterfly for a boyfriend so he has to join in too. 

Still, the evening hasn’t been unbearable, in fact, Sakusa might even call it enjoyable. The volleyball team (plus Akaashi) manage to get a booth all to themselves. Hinata sits in his lap and Sakusa rests his head on his shoulder while his arms wrap around Hinata’s waist. No one really spares them a second glance, all too familiar and used to the couple’s sweet displays of affection. Sakusa is content to rest absentmindedly until his turn comes to perceive or be perceived. 

The rules are simple enough. One person makes an assumption about another, and if they’re right, the other person drinks, but if they’re wrong, the person making the assumption has to drink. 

Of course, there are some conditions, one being that the statements can’t be too intrusive or personal and another is that couples and childhood friends can’t make assumptions about each other.

Yaku and Komori are frighteningly good at this game - “Liberos,” says Atsumu with a roll of his eyes. Sakusa, Aran, and Akaashi, all of whom everyone was sure would be the ones to beat, turn out to be really bad at making statements about people they half-know. Their saving grace is that others are really bad at reading them. 

On the other hand, Hinata is actually good at making assumptions about others, but people also tend to make correct statements about him. Gao said that Hinata prefers zoos to theme parks because he doesn’t like seeing animals in captivity, which is true, and Ushijima said that Hinata probably wore a Winnie the Pooh onesie religiously when he was a child, which is also true.

(There’s photographic evidence of the latter statement which also includes Sakusa wearing an Eeyore onesie, Komori wearing a Tigger onesie, and Natsu wearing a Piglet onesie.)

Hyakuzawa, Ushijima, Gao, and Bokuto are neither good nor bad at the game and tend to make bold assumptions which only works in their favour half of the time. And then there’s Atsumu, Hoshiumi, and Kageyama who are just awful at this game and have drunk at least five shots each.

“You don’t like ice cream or anything iced because it gives you brain freeze,” Sakusa states. His eyes narrow at Hoshiumi, as if analysing him. 

Then Hoshiumi grins triumphantly and cries out, “HA! Incorrect, Sakusa-san! I, Hoshiumi Kourai, NEVER get brain freeze!” Bokuto, Hinata, and Kageyama gasp in amazement while Aran and Sakusa stare at him incredulously.

“But how?” Hyakuzawa asks, out of genuine curiosity.

“No, don’t ask him--” Gao begins but Hoshiumi cuts him off.

“Through SHEER WILLPOWER!” He cries out proudly, puffing out his chest and hitting it like a drum. 

“That can’t be real,” says Hyakuzawa.

“It’s very real. I, too, never get brain freeze because I am strong-willed,” Ushijima replies and really, who are they to argue with Japan’s strongest cannon? Sakusa scowls as he picks up a shot glass and drinks it.

As the captain of the team, the ever responsible Aran eventually leaves the afterparty at around midnight and Atsumu follows after him. The others, even though they are all adults and can choose whether or not to continue enjoying the night, would rather not be on the receiving end of a certain Iwaizumi Hajime’s disapproving head shake, and so decline the Japanese football team’s invitation to the dancefloor. 

That said, on their way back to their rooms, Komori spies their athletic trainer sneaking towards the Argentine wing of their floor, but given the hookup culture of the Olympic Village, it’s nothing to really talk about. 

“I know why I joined the Jackals,” Hinata begins, when he and Sakusa are back in their room, a little after one in the morning, “but why did you?”

“Why do you ask?” Sakusa asks. 

“Curiosity.”

Sakusa takes time to consider his answer, in which he and Hinata prepare to sleep. They brush their teeth, floss, use mouthwash, and wash their faces before they change into sleepwear. By the time they’re under the covers of the bed, with Hinata laying his head on Sakusa’s chest listening to his heartbeat, he has his answer.

“Because I wanted to beat Wakatoshi-kun,” he says. “I couldn’t do that if we’re on the same side of the net.”

“But you could have played for the Deseo Hornets. Or the Green Rockets,” Hinata points out. “I would’ve followed you to whichever team you played for.”

“That’s true, but the Black Jackals have something that the Hornets and the Rockets don’t.”

“And what is that?”

Sakusa thinks about Atsumu and Bokuto. He thinks about how despite Atsumu finding joy in getting a rise out of him, he’s always the first one on the team to recognise if there’s something wrong with Sakusa and offers genuine advice. He thinks about Bokuto, even though he often forgets to regulate his volume, Sakusa can always count on Bokuto’s infectious optimism and energy to lift him up when he feels down.

Sakusa wears a small, fond smile on his face, one that only Hinata is a witness to. “Our friends.”

Hinata smiles at that answer. 

**tuesday 4th august 2020  
men’s volleyball, quarterfinals**

The preliminary rounds of the Olympics are over before Hinata could immerse himself in them and the next thing Hinata knows is that he’s on the bus to Ariake Arena for their quarterfinals match at five o’clock in the evening, the third match of the day. 

In a shocking turn of events, Poland beat Brazil in the morning, knocking the reigning champions out of the competition. But it comes as no surprise to Hinata. He knows firsthand that there are no guaranteed wins in volleyball. Challengers can be brought to heel and even champions can be conquered. 

Russia was the next to secure their place in the semifinals, triumphing over the USA, and will be facing Poland in the semifinals. The other two countries, Italy and Canada, are likely in the arena already, watching them and waiting for their turn on the court. If Japan wins against Argentina today, then in two days, they’ll play whoever wins the fourth quarterfinals. If everything goes as Hinata expects it to, then they’ll play against Poland in the finals. 

Still, there’s little point in dwelling on the _what if’_ s and _what could be’_ s. Japan has yet to beat Argentina. Never focus on the opponent beyond the one in front of you.

During every Olympic season, whether it be the winter or the summer games, there are usually a few athletes whom the media and press just eat up _._ In 2018’s Winter Olympics, USA’s Adam Rippon and Chloe Kim were adored worldwide. This year, it’s Sakusa, Hinata, and Komori. Once the world realised that not only are Sakusa and Komori cousins, but that together with Hinata, the three of them are childhood friends, the Japanese PR team couldn’t get them in front of a camera fast enough.

Their personalities differ greatly, and if they didn’t have the bond of sixteen years tying them together, it would make for a rather chaotic albeit hilarious public appearance. As childhood friends, they naturally play so well off each other.

Komori’s angelic face coupled with his sweetly devilish comments perfectly contrast Sakusa’s grumpy demeanour and blunt remarks. Hinata’s bright laughter and sunshine personality serve as a comfortable middle ground, making their interactions wholesome and funny, rather than concerning.

“They’ve been like this ever since we were eight years old,” Hinata giggles to the interviewer, who looks to be completely sunbathed in his light. “They bicker a lot, but what else can you expect from cousins? There’s never a boring moment with them around!”

“And how did both of you come to know Hinata-san?” The interviewer asks, opening the question for both Sakusa and Komori to answer. 

“Ahh, well, my family and Shou-chan’s family were neighbours - actually, they still are - and our parents introduced us to each other since we were close in age and attended the same elementary school. His family became an extension of my own so I think of him as another younger brother,” Komori tells her with a charming smile. Sakusa has to hand it to his cousin, he knows how to work the media. That deceptively sweet personality of his works wonders with interviewers.

Then the question is left to Sakusa, and since he can’t play the charisma card like Hinata and Komori can and his bluntness won’t work for this question, all he’s left with is the truth. Away from the view of the camera, Sakusa reaches for Hinata’s little finger, letting it act as an anchor for his nerves as he often does during interviews they have together.

“For me, I started playing volleyball because of Shouyou. As a kid, Motoya introduced it to me, but I was never really interested in it or anything really. But when I saw Shouyou… I don’t know, something clicked for me. You could say he gave me my purpose in life.” There’s a tiny squeeze on his pinky and in his peripherals, Sakusa can see a faint smile on Hinata’s face, reserved just for him. 

“Lots of praises there, how does that make you feel, Hinata-san?”

Another squeeze and Sakusa’s face softens to allow a smile while Hinata answers, “It’s not often you get to share the same dream as your best friends, even less so when the dream is the Olympic stage, and yet against all the odds, here we are! I feel incredibly fortunate and humbled to play with them, but more so to have them in my life. Where I am and who I am now wouldn’t be possible without them.”

There it is, the answer that solidifies Hinata’s reputation as Japan’s sweetheart.

“The cameras just eat ya up, don’t they?” Atsumu says, once the three finally break free from the media’s clutches, escaping to the changing rooms. “And ya both actually made Omi-kun seem likeable on camera! That’s a miracle if I ever saw one.”

“It’s like a Dungeons and Dragons game, Sakusa’s charisma stats increase whenever he’s with Hinata,” Aran adds with a laugh. “If only that worked for ya too, ‘Tsumu.”

“I never cared about being liked anyway. Everyone seems to like me well enough when I play and that’s all that matters to me,” says Atsumu with a dismissive wave of his hand.

For all of Atsumu’s skill in communicating on the court, it doesn’t translate well outside of games. He’s not great at making people like him. In fact, he excels in the opposite, in antagonising people and pushing their buttons to the point of overload. He’s not naturally charismatic and even his sense of humour is niche so no one really understands his jokes - except for Hinata, Bokuto, and Aran, but really, they’re too kind to leave him without a laugh even if they don’t understand it. Sometimes Sakusa laughs at his jokes, but Atsumu knows he’s really laughing _at_ him rather than _with_ him.

“Alright, get started on warmups, Hibarida-san is waiting for you on the court,” Iwaizumi Hajime calls out and no one needs telling twice.

Donned in their red jerseys, the Japanese National Team enters the court. The arena appears to be in full capacity, but that’s hardly a surprise given that the host team is playing and that their game is in the evening, when most people have finished work. The lights illuminate the teal and orange court and the sight of it all ignites excitement within Hinata.

“Shouyou!”

“Oikawa-san!”

The two shamelessly collide in a hug, in front of all the cameras which broadcast worldwide. The world just watched Argentina’s Oikawa Tooru and Japan’s Hinata Shouyou hug. Sakusa doesn’t spare them a second glance, all too used to their antics. Since meeting in Rio almost three years ago, Hinata and Oikawa have maintained a friendship forged in their love for volleyball and their grumpy significant others. 

“Omi-chan!”

“No no no no- shit,” Sakusa curses as he’s pulled into a hug by Oikawa, shamelessly displaying their friendship for the world to see. He can’t hear them, let alone even see them, but Sakusa can just _feel_ the Argentine and Japanese PR teams collaborating on a joint post-match interview between the three of them.

There have been many nights where Sakusa would come across Hinata on a Facetime call with Oikawa. More often than not, Oikawa spots the black-haired wing spiker and calls out for him constantly until he becomes so annoyed that he would join the conversation just to shut the setter up. God, it’s like having another Atsumu. _Oh God,_ what has Sakusa done to deserve this? To be friends with not just one, but _two_ cocky pretty asshole setters? 

The only thing that makes this situation somewhat bearable is the fact that over Oikawa’s shoulder, Sakusa can see Atsumu and Kageyama’s jaws just drop in disbelief and _ohhhh,_ that is enough to keep him in high spirits for the rest of the Olympic season. Ushijima is also a witness to this, but as ever, he remains impassive and matter-of-factly. 

As they line up, just before the game starts, Sakusa and Hinata link their pinkies together and squeeze lightly, serving as a reminder of the promise they made as children. 

_I want to see it… I want to see past over the wall, I want to see the view from the top. I want to stand on the world stage, but I can’t do it alone. Will you help me see it, Kiyoomi? Will you stand with me?_

_Yes, anything for you,_ is what he thought. _Always,_ is what he said.

Words which Hinata spoke into the night echo in Sakusa’s mind now. Oh, how far they’ve come and how far they have yet to go. He pulls Hinata’s hand closer, pinkies still linked, and presses a feathered kiss on his knuckles. Hinata returns the gentle affection with a kiss on Sakusa’s knuckles. It’s become a pre-game ritual of theirs, a wish for good luck. They smile at each other and then they part and move into their starting positions.

In the back row, Sakusa, Komori, and Hinata hold the defence, while Kageyama, Ushijima, and Hyakuzawa start in the front, with Gao ready to switch in for Komori when the rotation takes the libero out. From his position, Hinata can clearly see Oikawa’s grin as he begins the quarterfinals match with an all mighty serve. The sound of his hand hitting the ball is loud and thunders throughout the arena, as if to declare, “I have returned.”

Oikawa gets the first service ace of the game, but it’s nothing for Hinata to worry about just yet. He knows his strength and he knows his team’s strength. He’s confident that together, they have what it takes to conquer the Japanese-turned-Argentine Grand King. When Oikawa serves again, Sakusa gets underneath it, teeth gnashing against each other as he propels the ball in the air. The immensity of the task forces him on his knees but he pushes himself back up just in time to see Oikawa grimace at his receive.

Sakusa smirks, as if to say, “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

It’s a tense game, and a tedious one too as there’s rarely more than a two point difference between them. Still, as tense and tedious as the game is, it’s also thrilling for everyone involved. Japan takes the first set, then Argentina takes the second. In the middle of the third set, Ushijima is forced off the court when he sustains an ankle injury and so Bokuto Koutarou comes in and breathes new life into the game. 

Bokuto’s energy revitalises the team and together, they rip the third set away from Argentina’s grasp after a challenging deuce that takes them into the thirty point zone.

Something that Sakusa forgets is how he, Komori, Hinata, and Bokuto have all played together since middle school. Over their decade-long friendships, they’ve all taken turns playing against each other and with each other, and that creates a unique bond of synergy between them as teammates. They know how each other plays, how they think, where they’ll be, and what they’ll do.

“Hey, hey, hey! That was an awesome cross-shot, Hinata!” Bokuto praises brightly as he smacks Hinata on the back. “I don’t think even Komori could dig that one up!”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve had plenty of experience digging up cross-shots from both you _and_ Kiyo-chan,” Komori says with a scoff. Then he turns to Hinata with a smile, “But he’s also right, I would’ve struggled to get that one if I were on the other side of the court. Good thing I’m not!”

“For now. But when all of this is over, the three of us will go back to beating your ass,” Sakusa says, almost smugly as he wipes his forehead with a towel.

“You make it sound so easy, Kiyoomi, the Paper Mills almost beat us in the finals last year,” Hinata points out before he drinks from his water bottle.

“Key word there: _almost._ They _almost_ beat us, but they didn’t. _”_

“If you carry on, the Jackals are going to be short of a spiker and my parents will be short of a nephew, but it will be worth it to get you to shut up,” Komori says, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Before Sakusa could step towards his cousin, Bokuto comes in between them both, hands on their chests and pushing them away from each other. “You can fight each other later! We gotta focus on Argentina first!” Then he nods over to where Iwaizumi is sitting with the coach, staring at them hard and folding his arms over his chest. “Or _he’s_ going to stop you two.”

That gets Sakusa and Komori into commission quickly. 

In the end, Japan triumphs over Argentina with a setter dump from Kageyama in the fourth set, which not only ends the taxing deuce, but also the game itself. While Aran, Yaku, and Hoshiumi accompany Iwaizumi and Hibarida to the infirmary to check on Ushijima, the publicists herd Hinata, Sakusa, and Oikawa into a joint post-match interview.

The first thing Sakusa thinks during the interview is that Oikawa works the media just as well as Komori does. He’s like Atsumu, if the blond had decent social skills and some form of charisma because Sakusa will say this for Oikawa, he’s an ass but at least he’s charming. And it works somehow. The ray of sunshine, the grumpy beanpole, and the cocky pretty boy make for surprisingly good television.

After the interview, Sakusa is called over by his mother and Atsuko, no doubt to congratulate him for his performance during the match. Hinata watches them fondly, glad to see him receiving the long-awaited love and attention that he had been deprived of as a child. He knows Sakusa will never admit it, not unless he was feeling particularly open, but Hinata can see how much happier Sakusa is now.

“Mr. Hinata! Ninja Shouyou! Do you have a minute?”

Hinata turns to the sound of the Portuguese being spoken in his direction and sees a woman approaching him. She has oval frame glasses and long, brown bangs which frame her heart-shaped head. The rest of her hair is gathered in a sleek ponytail and she wears a collared white blouse under a dark navy blue blazer. On the lapels, an enamel pin of the Brazilian flag shines proudly under the lights. 

“Do I know you?” Hinata asks.

“No, but I know you,” she answers, then she extends her hand out with a friendly smile, “Rae Taviera, scout and recruiter for Asas São Paulo.”

Hinata shakes her hand politely. “Shouyou Hinata, but I guess you knew that already. What can I do for you, Ms. Taviera?”

Rae gestures to a nearby bench, inviting Hinata to sit with her, which he does. “It’s more of what _we_ can do for _you,_ Mr. Hinata. You’ve already made a name for yourself in Brazil, but we want to offer you the chance to turn it into a household name, the chance to play in the Brazilian Superliga.”

Wait, _him?_ Play for Asas São Paulo? Amongst giants and champions? 

“The team is going through a metamorphosis and we want fresh talent to energize the team, not for this upcoming season, but the one starting next year. We even have a volleyball legend joining us as a coach. Of course, we wouldn’t expect you to leave the Jackals only to sit on the bench. Your role on the team would be crucial and we would expect you to play in almost every game,” Rae adds. “According to FIVB Sports Regulations, we can’t offer you a five year contract, only a three year contract, but if you decide that you like it with us, we would be happy to extend your contract.”

“All of that would mean moving to Brazil, won’t it?” Hinata says, not so much as a question, but more of a realisation. 

God, he would love to live in Brazil again, to play for them, to win with them, but he loves Kiyoomi more. He won’t separate them again, not for the sake of glory and victory. He’s had both and they only taste sweet when his beloved is at his side. 

“I’m sorry, Ms. Taviera, as much as I would love to, I can’t. My contract with the Jackals ends next April and I have my own reasons for staying.”

Instead of disappointment, which is what Hinata expects, Rae just smiles, almost knowingly. “Don’t turn us down just yet. I’m not asking you to make your decision now, but I will ask you to just think about it.” She hands him her business card. “If you change your mind, give me a call before the month ends.”

“And if I don’t change my mind?”

“Then don’t call.” Rae stands to her feet and so does Hinata. She shakes his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hinata. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Rae walks away and Hinata feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns and sees Sakusa, smiling down at him. “What was that all about?” He asks.

Hinata waves his hands dismissively. “It’s nothing, I’ll tell you about it later.”

Sakusa raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to tell me about nothing later? Then it’s not really nothing, is it?” He points out, earning him a light smack on his chest.

“You know what I meant.” Hinata links their hands together with their pinky fingers as they begin to walk to the athletes’ bus shuttle to the Olympic Village. “Besides, we need to celebrate our quarterfinal win!”

“I am _not_ drinking anymore with Motoya, I refuse to get scolded by Iwaizumi-san.”

Hinata laughs, all warm and bright. “I didn’t mean celebrate with everyone else.” His free hand comes up and lightly strokes Sakusa’s bicep. “I meant we could celebrate in our own way…” He trails off suggestively, averting his gaze in a coy, playful manner that doesn’t escape Sakusa’s notice.

Sakusa leans down so that his mouth is near Hinata’s ear. His breath is trapped behind the mask but Hinata can still feel the heat behind it. “Well why didn’t you just say so?” He says, voice husky and full of want. Electricity dances down Hinata’s spine at the sound of his lover’s voice.

Twenty minutes and two showers later, Hinata is underneath Sakusa, looking like the undiscovered eighth wonder of the world. A wonder he doesn’t want anyone else but himself witnessing. Sakusa counts himself lucky to see Hinata like this, to see him writhe in pleasure, to feel his muscles twist and flex in ecstasy, to hear him blissfully moan his name over and over like a personal mantra. 

Hinata comes undone, his eyes dark with want and cheeks tinted with a deep blush as his limbs loosen. And he looks so fucking pretty. Shit, is it even possible to be that pretty?

“Are you okay?” Sakusa asks, his own voice hoarse. 

“Yeah,” says Hinata, smiling up at his lover. He weakly reaches up and cups Sakusa’s cheek which is surprisingly cool in contrast to his body. “I’m okay, meu coração, keep going-”

Then Sakusa unravels with a euphoric cry, shaking as his orgasm shudders through him. He pulls out as he collapses next to his beloved.

“Kiyoomi,” Hinata moans, sounding broken in a strangely lovely way, and Sakusa wonders if it’s possible to love someone so much because of how at home his name sounds in Hinata’s mouth. “Meu amado.” _My beloved._

Sakusa turns and pushes himself up on his elbows, hovering over Hinata. He leans down and kisses him, honeyed and light and slow. “I’m here, Shouyou.”

“I love you.”

Three words that Sakusa has heard everyday over the past three years. He never tires of hearing them. It’s almost addicting, the feeling of constantly falling apart and being put back together.

“I love you too.”

**saturday 8th august 2020  
men’s volleyball, gold medal match**

The man with constellation skin soars through the air with a crescent moon for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and it’s in!

Sakusa’s right hand stings and when he lands on his feet, he stares at it. If he weren’t such a germaphobe, he would never wash it again. It’s the hand that secured Japan’s win over Russia in the Olympic finals with a service ace. Then he curls that hand into a fist and triumphantly raises it high above his head and lets out a cry of victory. 

Everything is loud and bright and heavy and it takes a moment for his senses to catch up to the present moment. Hinata, where’s Hinata? Adrenaline carries Sakusa, driving him forward even though all he wants to do is collapse on the floor and catch his breath. 

“Shouyou!”

“Kiyoomi!” 

He finds Hinata, who jumps into his arms. The momentum forces them into a cinematic spin and Sakusa carries his boyfriend in his arms, before leaning up to share a celebratory kiss with the world bearing witness. The crowd cheers louder, if that’s even possible. Sakusa is sure that all the cameras are focused on them and that there’ll be many interviews after this and that they’ll make headlines, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not now. Not when he has Hinata in arms, skin glistening from the sweat and his cheeks red from breathlessness, but no less beautiful.

As the team cheers and a series of hugs occur, Komori finds them within the celebratory mess and wraps both arms around them, pulling them close. Yes, this is a win for Japan, but deeper than that, this is a win for the three of them. They’re a long way from the gymnasium where they spent countless hours practising serves, receives, and spikes. From the playground to the hallowed ground of the Olympic stadium, they _made it._

“We did it- I- we really did it,” Hinata says, almost in disbelief. His eyes become glossier as the tears begin to build up. “Our dreams came true, we _made_ them come true.”

Komori laughs but he too starts to cry. “It only took us sixteen years to make our dreams a reality.”

“Is that how you see it? I’ve been living the dream for sixteen years.” Sakusa says, his voice breaking from the overwhelming emotions he feels. Hinata and Komori turn to face him and bear witness to the tears in his eyes and the bright smile on his face. “Your friendships have brought colour and light and joy into my life and I am forever changed because of it. Thank you for teaching me how to play volleyball.”

Hinata and Komori’s eyes widen and the tears that were held back by willpower now flow freely and they hug Sakusa. “Kiyo-chan, you can’t just show more emotion in the space of a minute than in the past sixteen years and not expect us to cry,” Komori teases. “God, who knew you’re such a sap.”

“And this is exactly why I don’t emote in front of you.”

“I take it back!”

“What are we gonna do now?” Hinata asks, once they pull away from each other. “What do people do when they’ve achieved their dream?”

Sakusa reaches for Hinata’s hand, tenderly linking their little fingers together as he smiles softly at him. “They find a new dream, and I’m looking at mine.”

Beside them, Komori pretends to gag. “It’s like I don’t even exist to either of you- you know what, I’m going to celebrate with Bokuto- wait no, he’s gone to Akaashi in the crowd- wait you can do that? I’m going to find Rintarou,” Komori decides. He then playfully ruffles Sakusa’s and Hinata’s hair before going to find his fiancé in the crowd, leaving his best friends alone to share a moment.

“Is this everything you dreamed of?” Sakusa asks.

“Everything and more.”

“More?”

“I have you, and you are more than everything.”  
  


🏐

The three friends return to their childhood homes, proud gold medals hanging around their necks. The rush of the Olympics takes a toll on their bodies and the day after the closing ceremony is spent resting and recovering. They have the rest of the month to relax before they start training in September for the next V.League season, which commences in late October.

They stay for another week in Tokyo, spending it with their families. Then in the following week, they separate. 

Komori travels to Hyogo with Suna, to visit his mother’s side of the family, while Hinata and Sakusa take a plane to Okinawa to visit Nami for the remainder of the month. Hinata met her once before, during Christmas when she came up to Tokyo, but it has been five years since then. 

Sakusa Nami isn’t like most grandmothers, Hinata learns. 

She has a chauffeur collect them from Naha airport, their names written in neat kanji on a drywipe whiteboard as he waits for them in the arrivals area. At first, it seems that it’s just a hired service, something to mark the occasion. Even the car they’re being escorted in is not the most typical choice of car for a person in their mid-eighties, so it has to be a hired service. Then Sakusa greets the driver with familiarity and Hinata wonders how wealthy his family is.

He nudges him with his elbow, quietly getting his attention as they sit in the backseat of the car. “Kiyoomi,” Hinata whispers, “how rich is your grandmother?”

“Not that rich,” Sakusa replies absentmindedly and that confirms Hinata’s thoughts.

“So she’s so rich that money isn’t even a concern, got it,” he murmurs.

“What? No, she’s just financially comfortable.”

Hinata folds his arms over his chest, like a pouty child, and leans back against his seat. “That’s what all rich people say,” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

“Is not.”

“Is so! That’s what you said when we were kids.”

“Oh… That’s right.” Sakusa reconsiders his previous answer. “Well, my father is wealthier than she is, if that helps to visualise things.”

And it does help, until after an hour when the car leaves the mainland and starts driving on a long stretch of road leading to the smaller islands of Hamahiga and Miyagi. Then the car comes to a permanent stop and Hinata sees the house outside, jaw dropping. 

They disembark and Hinata stares at the house. “You said she wasn’t as rich as your dad!” He says, half whispering, half hissing.

Sakusa looks at his lover, confused at his reaction as he takes the luggage out of the trunk of the car. “That’s because... she isn’t…?” He says, uncertain if that’s the correct response. 

“Then how do you explain that?” Hinata asks, gesturing to the house, moving his hand up and down dramatically. Sakusa doesn’t reply immediately.

“Sakusa-san, would you like me to take your things to your room?” The driver asks, to which Sakusa shakes his head.

“No thank you, Tamaki-san, I can take it from here.”

“Alright then. I’ll tell your grandmother that you’ve arrived.”

“Please do.”

Then begins the tour around Sakusa Nami’s estate.

It’s a traditional house, built in the 18th century, with an Okinawan red tiled roof on each of the different buildings connected to the compound which surround a courtyard. As Sakusa guides him through the compound, Hinata sees how the central structures are ringed by an elevated garden of ornamental grasses, native trees and shrubs. The main house has eight rooms plus a dining room and entrance room, all beautifully decorated. Most of the rooms are floored with tatami and what little furniture there is, is lightweight.

Despite the overwhelming rural and traditional atmosphere of the residence, there are some touches of modernisation around the house. Hinata notices a wifi router and there are televisions installed in most of the rooms, though most of them are closed off, clearly occupied by others. 

He wonders who else lives here. As far as he knows, Sakusa never met his grandfather, as he died twenty-eight years before he was even born, and that Sakusa has no paternal uncles or aunts, his father being an only child. So, who else could it be?

“And here’s my room. My siblings don’t visit obachan enough to warrant their own designated rooms, but you already know that I visit every summer when I can,” Sakusa tells him as he lays the luggage flat on the floor and opens it up to unpack their clothes.

His room isn’t entirely different to his childhood room in Tokyo. This one lacks a structured bed and instead has a kotatsu in front of the television. Since it’s the summer, the heater and blanket are removed, leaving just a normal table. Hinata sits on the floor and helps Sakusa, handing clothes to him to hang up in the wardrobe. 

Then there’s a bark and the sound of paws tapping softly against the hardwood floors of the hallways. Hinata instantly turns to Sakusa whose eyes glitter at the sound. He slowly hangs up the shirt in his hands before he steps over Hinata, heading towards the door. He slides it open and whistles. Another bark and this time, the sound of paws accelerate into a run and Sakusa grins as a Shiba Inu leaps into his arms.

“Ichigo!” He’s laughing and Hinata can’t get enough of it. 

Sakusa always did like dogs better than humans. Something about them being more hygienic than people but Hinata knows that’s just a half-truth he tells people. The other half of it is that Sakusa thinks they’re cute and sweet. 

“Ichigo? Your grandmother named him after a strawberry?” 

“Ahh, well…” Sakusa blushes a little and his lips curl into a bashful smile. “Obachan got him when I was seventeen, after her previous dog, Poki, died and she said I could name him, so I named him after Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“From Bleach?”

“Yeah…” He sits on the floor, legs crossed, and Ichigo walks in a circle on his lap before settling in between his legs. “Because he kinda reminds me of you, in some ways. He’s got pretty orange hair like you. He really cares for his younger sisters, he’s empathetic, and has this insane need to be stronger. In his case, it was so he could protect people. In your case, it was so you could see the view at the top.”

Hinata’s cheeks pinken at that. 

“Can I…?”

Sakusa nods, then he points at Hinata. “Go on, say hi! That’s Shouyou.”

Ichigo seems to know a kindred spirit when he sees one and wastes little time in jumping into Hinata’s arms. He giggles as Ichigo nuzzles his head into Hinata’s hands, begging to be stroked. 

“It’s like a puppy-ception,” Sakusa mumbles to himself, fond and endeared at the sight.

“You still haven’t explained why your grandmother has such a big house,” Hinata points out as he cuddles with Ichigo.

“It’s been in her family for generations and she inherited it when her parents passed away,” Sakusa explains with a nonchalant shrug. “She didn’t have a formal education, not like my grandfather, so she made her living by converting the house into a boarding house for travellers and tourists. She managed everything, from the housekeeping to the gardening, and even cooked breakfast and dinner for all her guests. As she got older, she employed people to help her out but you’ll still find her trying to do everything.”

“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m completely useless, Kiyoomi. I refuse to be put in a home!” 

Sakusa and Hinata turn to the voice at the door, where Nami stands with a sweet smile hiding her firecracker personality. She’s eighty-four, but barely looks a day over sixty-five, aging with an air of elegance about her. Her warm-toned silver hair, which Hinata remembers as being shoulder-length, is shortened to a pixie cut, accentuating her cheeks and jawline and somehow makes her look younger.

“I don’t think we could put you in a home even if we tried. But you really should consider retiring, obachan. Let others take care of the house while you relax and enjoy your days,” Sakusa says, almost scolding, but there’s a smile on his face.

“Oh, you mean my remaining days, don’t you? Ha! I’m going to live until I’m one hundred and one! I’m going to meet my great-grandchildren.” Nami tells him with a steeled resolve. Hinata can hear the Okinawa-ben in her voice. 

“Obachan…” Sakusa drags the last syllable out in a light reprimand. “It’s not such a bad thing to be looked after.”

“The day I let others look after me is the day I pass into the next life and have you and your mother to take care of the funeral arrangements,” Nami tells him. “Remember: Make sure I’m buried with-”

“Your lipstick in the shade ‘Perfectly Peachy’ and your mascara, yes obachan, I know,” sighs Sakusa. From his reaction, Hinata can tell that this is something his grandmother has repeatedly said. He’s not too sure whether he should be concerned or amused.

“Anyway, how was the flight and the drive?”

“Flight was so-so and I think you know how the drive was,” Sakusa says pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Obachan, you didn’t have to have Tamaki-san come and collect us. We were going to just hire a car for two weeks.”

Nami scoffs, as if personally offended by that. “My grandson and his boyfriend are Olympians! Gold medalists at that! And so you will receive an Olympian’s welcome. Any grandmother in their right mind would do the same,” she says, almost stubbornly. Hinata can see where Sakusa gets it from.

Sakusa sighs in resignation, all too used to her behaviour. She curiously peers around him, her hazel eyes locking with Hinata, and she smiles.

“Hinata-kun, how are you? It’s been a while since we last met and you’ve grown since then! Though, Kiyoomi does send photos occasionally, when he _remembers,”_ she says, not so discreetly sparing a second to glance at Sakusa.

“I’m really good, Sakusa-obaasan! And please, call me Shouyou!”

“If I can call you by your given name, you must call me obachan. No need for these formalities, you’re practically married to my grandson, if not officially.”

Pink dusts Hinata’s cheeks and his hand instinctively hovers over the small box which has made its home in his pocket for the past nine months. “Okay, Nami-obachan.”

Nami narrows her eyes at Hinata but then concedes with a sigh. “I’ll take it for now.” Then she slides the door open and beckons for the two to follow her. “Come, help me prepare dinner for the guests. And you,” she looks down at Ichigo who stares up at her with a happy look on his face, “you finish your dinner.”

The kitchen is a communal area, Hinata discovers. The act of sharing food and recipes is encouraged and guests are welcome to come and cook and share their personal tastes with the other guests as they exchange stories. 

“This is why I refuse to retire, how else can I meet such wonderful people and eat such delicious foods,” Nami tells Hinata in passing, as he stares at the scene in wonder. It’s a strangely familial atmosphere, something new yet familiar.

They all come together to prepare chikuzenni. It’s a meal usually served on New Year’s Day, but it’s also a meal that can be made in volume to serve many. As Hinata carefully cuts the edges off the lotus root, he listens to the stories told to him by some of the lodgers. Sakusa stands by the stove, having been assigned to blanch the vegetables. Nami is next to him, but she watches Hinata as he effortlessly converses with her guests.

“I forget how much he smiles, it seems to be his default setting.” she says fondly. “And he seems to be rubbing off on you. Haven’t seen you smile this much since you were a child making sandcastles on the beach.”

“It’s very hard not to smile around Shouyou.”

“I can see that,” Nami says, chuckling softly. “Trying to do otherwise would be like defying the sun.” 

Dinner happens shortly after that. They all sit together around the large, rectangular table in the dining hall, chikuzenni in their bowls, and smiles on their faces as they continue to exchange stories and anecdotes. Nami doesn’t miss her chance to boast about how her grandson is not only an Olympian, but an Olympic gold medalist. Tamaki, who sits next to Hinata, quietly tells him about how Nami invited all of the lodgers to watch every one of his and Sakusa’s matches. 

“And it’s not just the lodgers,” he adds, “she told everyone down at the local market too. I don’t think there’s anyone within a five mile radius of this house that doesn’t know your or Sakusa-san’s name.”

“My name?”

“Oh yes, Nami-san boasts about you too. She’s very proud of you.”

A gentle warmth settles in Hinata’s heart and he’s filled with endearment. He gently wipes the wetness of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you for telling me, Tamaki-san.”

Dinner is over and as Hinata moves with the others to clear the table, Nami stops him. “Shou-chan, you leave that to Kiyoomi and the others. You come and sit outside with me.”

“So I’m on cleanup duty?” Sakusa asks, eyes narrowing into a mild glare.

“You may be an Olympian but you’re still my grandson and good grandsons help their obachans, don’t they?” She says, patting his cheek like he’s still a small child. Hinata tries to smother his giggles with his hand. “Didn’t you say that I should let people look after me and help me?”

“Seems like you only listen when you find it convenient, clearly.”

“Darling, that’s what everyone does, that’s how the world works. I don’t see what the problem is, I thought you like cleaning?”

“That’s beside the point, obachan.”

Hinata laughs at the exchange like Sakusa and his grandmother are the funniest people in the world. There’s no mockery in his laughter though, just endearment and fondness.

“He’s grumpy, and honest to a fault, but he has a good heart. It’s why he’s my favourite grandson,” Nami tells Hinata, once Sakusa disappears into the kitchen. They walk out into the courtyard garden together and sit on a bench, bathing in the moonlight. “I used to worry about him a lot when he was a child. He spent almost every summer with me because his siblings claimed that they couldn’t look after him while their parents worked.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “More like, they _wouldn’t_ look after him. So I took him in every summer.”

“He loved every summer he spent with you,” Hinata reassures, kind and earnest as he always is. “You made sure he was loved and that he knew he was loved. It’s what any grandmother would do.”

“Perhaps, but I knew I could only do so much. Little compares to the love and acceptance of one’s father or mother. I find comfort in knowing that his relationship with Sayuri-chan has improved.” Nami sighs, and then smiles at Hinata. “Tell me, Shouyou, are you close with your grandparents?”

It takes a moment, but eventually Hinata shakes his head. He chuckles, but there’s no amusement behind it. “Quite the opposite actually. I haven’t seen them in seventeen years.”

“Oh, are they…?”

“No, they’re still alive… I think,” he says, like an afterthought. “Neither of them approved of the relationship between my mom and dad. They became estranged from them when they got married. Even after my dad died, they showed up to the funeral, but that was the last I ever saw of them. So for a short while, it was just my mom, me, and Natsu.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” says Nami, soft and sincerely apologetic.

“There’s nothing to apologise for. It didn’t last long, the loneliness, I mean. I soon met Motoya-kun, and through him, I met Kiyoomi. They became my family.”

Nami smiles, fond and grateful. “I’m glad to hear it. Kiyoomi was a quiet boy, who kept to the sidelines and never wanted to inconvenience anyone. Did you know that he used to read himself bedtime stories so he didn’t have to bother his parents? He preferred the company of books to people and he’d always fall asleep with a book on his face. He cried when stupid children would knock his sandcastles over and he would feed the dog from his own plate because he didn’t want them to feel left out.” She exhales. “He was the sweetest, most gentle boy. And he wasn’t wanted by his parents or his siblings, so he was happy to be alone.”

“Nami-obachan…”

“He was happy to be alone because he didn’t know what it was like to have someone, to be wanted by someone. It’s why I’m so glad he met you, Shouyou. You changed his life.”

“You give me too much credit,” Hinata says, humble and earnest. “If anything, Kiyoomi is the one who changed _my_ life. He’s a lot kinder than he lets on, kinder than people believe him to be. He shows his kindness and love for others in ways that they’ll least expect. Like keeping their favourite drink stocked in the fridge, or buying something in the shop window because it reminded him of them. Or if they had a bad day, he’ll do the task that was assigned to them, just so that they have less to worry and think about. And even if he disagrees with their choices, as long as they aren't in a dangerous situation, he’ll support them and help them achieve their goals. He never asks for praise or recognition.”

Then Hinata’s voice softens, almost to a whisper. “He’s kind even when he has every reason not to be. Even when people hurt him. I don’t think he’s aware of it, but he loves so widely and so deeply that I wonder how he has room in his heart for me. Especially when I-” _When I’ve hurt him in the past._ He inhales sharply and then exhales a shuddering breath, trying to get a grip onto his emotions. Hinata shakes his head, dismissing the unspoken part of his broken sentence. “When we were children, he joined the volleyball club because I asked him to, because he was kind. When he was moving up to middle school, he promised me that he’ll never forget me, because he was kind. When I chose to go to Fukurodani over Itachiyama, he supported me even though it took me away from him, because he was kind. When I told him that I was going to Brazil, he encouraged me to go after my dreams, even if it hurt him, because he was kind. I’m a living testament of his kindness.” 

His last sentence sounds almost repentant. 

“His life changed when he met me, yes, but I don’t think it’s because I’m all that special. In fact, I’m really ordinary.” Hinata chuckles, soft but so clear and certain. “His life changed not because of me, but because he chose to change his life. I just happened to be the guy that was lucky enough to be close enough to watch him shine.”

Nami reaches out and puts her hand on top of Hinata’s as she smiles at him. Fond. Motherly. Kind. Oh, that’s where Sakusa gets it from. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Shouyou. You’re too humble when it comes to Kiyoomi.” Then she gently pats his cheek in that sweet grandmotherly way. “Most people are lucky to have even found one great love in their life. Some are born in the wrong era, some fall in love with someone else, and some don’t find them until the next life. You and Kiyoomi have not only found each other, you have spent most of your lives together. Do you realise how rare that is? How fortunate you both are?”

 _Yes, I know,_ Hinata thinks humbly to himself.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told my grandson three years ago and you must promise me that you will live by this, Shouyou.”

Hinata nods, earnest and eager. His readiness is almost childlike. “If it’s within my capabilities, I will.”

“I want you to live your life in such a way, so that at the end of each day, if it were your last day, you would be satisfied and have no regrets. Never love in silence. Love boldly, love proudly, and most of all, love fearlessly. Can you promise me that?”

Hinata smiles and it’s like a burst of noonday sunlight amidst the dimming evening. “I promise, Nami-obachan.”

🏐

A week passes after that. 

From cooking dinners with Nami-obachan, to taking Ichigo on coastline walks with Sakusa, to napping on the hammock in the garden courtyard, Hinata has so far enjoyed his vacation in Okinawa. 

“--and I’ve taken them to karaoke bars and they love it! Some of them are even thinking of transferring to the V.League when their contracts are finished,” Romero says in Portuguese, while Facetiming to Hinata, who lounges in a hammock. Ichigo curls up next to him, snoozing peacefully as Hinata strokes him. Since meeting in Hinata’s debut match three years ago, he and Romero have maintained a friendship despite being on opposing teams.

“And what about you, Romero-san?”

“Ah me? Well, I have one last season with the Adlers, then I’m going to move back to Brazil.”

“To retire?”

“Not yet.”

“To play?”

“Not quite.”

Hinata scratches his head, stumped as to what he could mean. Romero isn’t normally this cryptic but he must have his own reasons, so Hinata decides to drop it and leave it be. “I was approached by a scout from a Brazilian team. Rae Taviera, if I remember correctly. She wanted to recruit me for Asas but I turned her down.”

On his screen, Hinata can see confusion crease on Romero’s forehead as his eyebrows furrow. “But why?”

“I won’t leave Kiyoomi again.”

“But Shouyou, don’t you know that--”

“Shouyou! Can you take Ichigo out for a walk please? You’ll have to go without me, just helping obachan with something!” Sakusa calls out from the direction of the kitchen. At the sound of the word ‘walk,’ Ichigo wakes up and bolts towards the source of the sound, leaping off the hammock with a surprising amount of grace.

“Will do!” He calls out in response, then he turns his attention back to the Brazilian superstar on his phone screen. “I’ll talk to you later, Romero-san! Say hi to Rubens and Mrs Romero for me!”

“Catch you later, Shouyou!”

Hinata hangs up and tucks his phone in his pocket before following after Ichigo, who’s already at the front door. He’s sat on the floor, tail wagging, and looking up expectantly at the leash which hangs on a hook by the door. Hinata crouches down next to him and rubs him on his head affectionately. “You’re such a good boy, Ichigo! So patient! Who’s a good boy? You are!” He praises, his voice rising in pitch.

Hinata then grabs the leash and clips it onto the ring around Ichigo’s collar. He takes him out for a quiet, evening walk around the village. It’s peaceful here, Hinata thinks. The pace of life is slower than it is in Tokyo, but here, he can hear his thoughts. Half an hour passes by the time they return to the house. As soon as he unclips Ichigo and cleans his paws, the dog runs off into the garden with a happy bark.

He’s about to take off his shoes when he’s stopped by Tamaki who gives him a note.

“What’s this?”

“Follow the instructions on this note,” he tells him and before Hinata can question him, he walks away.

“Wha- Tamaki-san! Who gave this to you!?” But the older man says nothing, seemingly invested into a phone call he suddenly has, as if that isn’t convenient timing at all. Hinata huffs and opens the note. He recognises Sakusa’s penmanship immediately. And it also helps that Sakusa signed his name at the bottom of the note.

> _Shouyou,_
> 
> _Go to the beach and into the forest on the left side of the shore._
> 
> _Follow the trail of lanterns and you’ll find me at the end._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Kiyoomi_

Hinata’s heart flutters at the unknown. He wonders what his lover has planned for him, but he knows the only way he’ll discover it is by doing as he was asked, so he does. He realises that asking him to walk Ichigo was a ploy to get Hinata out of the house while Sakusa set up whatever it was he had planned. _Oh,_ his lover is clever.

He walks to the beach, which is only five minutes away from Nami’s house. Unsurprisingly, there’s still some people at the beach at six o’clock in the evening, all waiting for the summer sunset. Hinata continues walking, past the people and towards the forest that surrounds the beach with a hug, as per Sakusa’s instructions. 

The trail of paper lanterns is easy to spot once Hinata approaches the forest. They’re of a similar make to the ones used in _yozakura,_ during _hanami,_ to illuminate the flowers at night for viewing. But that’s not all. Thin strings hang from tree branches along the path and at the end of them are photos of Hinata and Sakusa. The first photos were from their childhood as Hinata delves further into the forest, leading him into an enclosed part of the beach, isolating him from the others, they get older. 

All Hinata can hear is the sound of the ocean meeting the shore and the flutter of bird wings hitting the leaves in the trees. He breaks through the tree line, revealing a small cove, untouched by humans. Well, save one. One very handsome human.

Sakusa sits on a large picnic blanket surrounded by blankets and several pillows. He holds two flute glasses in one hand. There’s food laid out in front of him. Just small things, like white chocolate-covered strawberries, korokke, onigiri, and chopped watermelon, all packed in separate containers. The bottle of wine sits in a portable ice wine cooler on the side. Electric candles and tealights provide some light as the evening starts to dim. And there’s even a bluetooth speaker connected to Sakusa’s phone, playing their playlist softly in the background.

“Kiyoomi…” Hinata murmurs. He doesn’t approach, not yet. He needs a moment to take this all in, lest his heart give out on the sweetness of it all.

“I discovered this place when I was playing with obachan’s previous dog, Poki. I threw a ball into the forest and she chased after it, so I chased after her, and she led me here.” Sakusa shrugs as if he didn’t just plan the most romantic night out for them. “I just wanted to do something special for us. We haven’t had the chance to celebrate our win together. Alone.”

Hinata is unable to help the gasp that escapes his lips as he joins his beloved on the picnic blanket, almost knocking the food over. It’s all so idyllic, even Eden-like. “Oh meu carinho, this is amazing.” He leans across and kisses him on the cheek. “You’re amazing.”

Sakusa chuckles fondly and presses a kiss to Hinata’s forehead and links their hands together with their pinkies. “And you’re wonderful,” he says, endeared.

After the savoury food is finished and half the wine bottle is spent, the sun begins to set. And _oh,_ it’s beautiful. The gods above appear to collaborate on a watercolour painting, each of them donating a stroke of colour. Shades of orange, yellow, pink, and purple blur together, bleeding across the canvas of the sky as the sun sinks into the bed of the horizon.

With Sakusa sitting there, bathing in the colours of the sunset, something settles into place for Hinata, eliciting a calm upon his heart. 

_How do you know the time is right?_ His question to his mother from eight months ago comes back to memory.

 _You just do._ Was her answer.

And Hinata does. He knows now is the time.

“So do you remember when you asked me about what that woman was talking to me about? After our interview with Oikawa-san?” He asks, before opening his mouth for Sakusa to feed him a chocolate-covered strawberry.

“Vaguely. I remember you saying that it was nothing and you’ll tell me later on and knowing me, I probably made some joke about how you’ll tell me about nothing later, so it’s not actually nothing.”

“So you do remember. Because that’s exactly what happened.”

“Vaguely.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” says Hinata. 

“I have a university degree, of course I do.”

“I’m pretty sure degrees don’t work like that.” Then Hinata shakes his head and reminds himself that he needs to get back on track. He takes both of Sakusa’s hands in his and looks deep into his eyes. “It was a recruitment offer. To move to Brazil and play for Asas São Paulo.”

“I see.” Blunt, curt, distant.

“No, no, don’t misunderstand, I didn’t accept the offer!” Hinata assures him, almost panickedly. “I meant what I said three years ago. Where you go, I go. We're staying together. I won’t separate us again. I promised, remember?” He says, lifting his pinky finger up, serving as a visual reminder of their promise. Then Hinata takes the little box out of his pocket and opens it, revealing a silver signet ring with a white jade gemstone fitted in the center. Sakusa’s eyes widen at the sight of the ring, cheeks glowing, but says nothing.

“I’m not like you, I’m not good with words,” Hinata chuckles self-consciously, but presses onwards and drops down to one knee, “and really, I should’ve written all of this down, but I couldn’t. Believe me, I tried, but I couldn’t find the right words. I’m not good at speeches. The only thing I can say is that I love you. I love you. _I love you._ And I promise, if you’ll allow me to become your husband, I’ll never let you forget how much I love you. Sakusa Kiyoomi, will you marry me?”

Hinata looks at Sakusa, waiting, hoping, praying that he’ll accept. A few moments pass before he speaks up.

“You said you didn’t accept the recruitment offer, does that mean you rejected it completely?” Sakusa questions, which Hinata finds really strange and vexing because out of everything he’s just said, everything he’s just _proposed,_ he’s fixating on the offer instead. Sakusa reaches into his inner jacket but Hinata doesn’t pay attention. 

Truth be told, he’s feeling somewhat frustrated now. Okay no, scratch that, he’s _very_ frustrated now. Hinata has spent the past nine months trying to find the right time to propose and just when the opportunity presents itself, Sakusa just doesn’t seem that interested. What makes the situation more maddening is that Sakusa doesn’t even acknowledge the proposal, and that seems worse than being rejected outright. And Hinata knows it’s not another case of him not making his intentions clearer—he knows explicitly asked, “Will you marry me?” So there is no way Sakusa could’ve misheard him. No, his choice to ignore what was said is a conscious act.

“I mean, she did give me until the end of the month to reconsider, but I don’t see how that’s relevant now considering I just proposed…” The remaining words die in Hinata’s mouth when he sees a small box in Sakusa’s hand, opened to reveal a silver signet ring with a black jade gemstone in the centre.

“I was going to propose tonight too,” he confesses. “But then you had to come along and beat me to it.”

“Wait, so the trail of paper lanterns and hanging photographs, the picnic and wine, the beach, the music—”

“Yes, all of it was part of my elaborate proposal which I had been planning for the past nine months—”

“Wait, nine months?” Hinata questions. “When did you buy my engagement ring?”

“In December. I asked Motoya, my mother, and Atsuko-san to help me while you were out with Natsu to buy a present for your mother.”

“Motoya-san helped me pick your engagement ring too…” Hinata says, trailing off as his brain pieces together the scattered pieces of information. “Wait a minute—”

“Motoya _knew_ we were both planning on proposing but didn’t tell either of us!” Sakusa exclaims, beating Hinata to the conclusion. He huffs sharply and his jaw tenses. “He planned this all along like the little shit he is- _oh_ when I see him next, I’m gonna fold him like one of Osamu’s onigiris…” He trails off, grumbling to himself.

For a moment, there’s silence and newly learned information settles in. Then Hinata laughs, bright and clear and full of joy. He laughs like it’s the silliest thing in the world, as if he didn’t just propose five minutes ago. His laughter is infectious and it’s not long before Sakusa laughs too, letting go of the momentary anger he held in his ribs.

“This isn’t how I planned on proposing to you, Shouyou,” says Sakusa with a fond shake of his head. “Do you know how long I’ve been planning this? How much I had to prepare ahead of time?”

“Tell me about it, Kiyoomi, I definitely wasn’t counting on you not giving me an answer when I proposed,” says Hinata, the last of his laughs fading into a contented sigh. “But propose to me anyway.”

“What?”

“Well, you just showed me a ring. You didn’t actually ask me to marry you yet, so propose,” Hinata encourages. “Knowing you, you have a speech prepared and you probably rehearsed it several times in the mirror.”

“Worse, I practised with Motoya and Suna,” he grumbles, earning a laugh from Hinata. “And this week, I practised in front of obachan and Ichigo whenever you were out.” Sakusa sounds embarrassed by his admission but Hinata loves him for it.

“Okay, that’s really adorable,” Hinata tells him. He leans over and kisses him on the cheek. “I think it’s time I heard the speech. It doesn’t seem right that everyone else heard this speech and I don’t just because I have bad timing.”

Sakusa takes a moment to collect himself, then he starts. “I don’t consider myself to be anyone of great significance, but you, oh you’re the sun that everyone revolves around, that the world gravitates to. You radiate such light and love and like everyone, I just adore you. When we were kids, you threw your arm around my shoulders and kept me at your side ever since. I wish I knew what made you choose me, what you saw in me that was worth befriending, what part of me was worth loving.

“I always thought of us as the sun and the moon. And like the moon with the sun, I can’t smile, I can’t shine, I can’t be me without you. In a world where change is as inevitable as the setting of the sun, you are the one constant in my life. And I love you. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I will love you until I meet you in the next life we share together, and then I will love you in that too. Hinata Shouyou, please give me the honour of being your husband. Will you marry me?"

Tears stream south of Hinata’s cheeks, but he smiles amidst it all. His eyes glitter and a blush dusts his cheeks. His heart is so tender and so full that if Sakusa says anything else, he’ll melt like snow when it meets the first breath of spring.

“Yes, of course it’s a yes, it will always be a yes, meu amado,” he answers as he lets Sakusa slide the ring onto his finger. Then Hinata moves forward and pulls his beloved in an embrace, before sharing a kiss with him. 

They smile as they kiss and they smile when they separate, high on euphoria. “I never answered, but it’s a yes for me too. I will marry you, Shouyou.”

“Okay good, because you really freaked me out when you didn’t answer!” Hinata cries out, lightly smacking Sakusa’s chest before he too slides a ring onto his finger. Sakusa bows his head apologetically but Hinata can tell that it’s just a way for him to cover his small grin. “Speaking of which, there’s one thing I don’t understand about all of this. When I proposed, why did you ask me about rejecting the offer from Asas?”

Sakusa lifts his head. “Oh, well, because you’ll want to change your mind about rejecting them.”

Silence takes hold and it’s a minute before Hinata carefully says, “Kiyoomi… why would I want to change my mind about Asas?”

“Because Rae Taviera also offered me a place on the team, and I said yes.” 

And of course, Sakusa says it in such a factual way, as if he didn’t just drop a life-changing bomb on Hinata. But there’s a hidden smile within his words and Hinata feels his heart lighten with excitement and hope, even though the rational voice in his head is telling him that this is all too good to be true.

“But when she spoke to me, she never mentioned you,” Hinata points out. 

“She approached me before the finals, while you were in an interview with Wakatoshi-kun. You know, the whole rivals-to-teammates segment,” Sakusa explains. “She mentioned how she would approach you too and I asked if she would be kind enough to omit my name in her offer. I was already planning on proposing to you after the Olympics but this was just a nice bonus and I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew that you would probably say no, so I advised her to not dismiss you so quickly, but to give you until the end of the month to reconsider her offer. She was more than happy to oblige.”

There’s so much information and Hinata can feel his brain lagging like an outdated computer as he tries to process it all. 

“Everything was going well until Romero-san almost told you. Luckily, I interrupted just in time but he can’t be blamed, I didn’t tell him about my plans and I should have, knowing how often you two talk,” Sakusa adds, like an afterthought.

“Romero-san? How is he involved in this?” Hinata asks, tilting his head to the side, like a confused puppy. 

“He’s going to be part of Asas…? I thought you knew about that?”

“Wait! He’s going to play for Asas again?!”

“No, he’s coming back as the coach?”

“Wait, Romero-san’s the volleyball legend that’s coming to coach Asas?” Hinata gasps. “Waaaa! That’s so cool! Everything makes sense now!”

Sakusa watches Hinata, torn between laughing fondly at how endearingly naive and unaware his fiancé is, and kissing him senseless because Hinata has no right to look that cute as he realises things. But Hinata makes that choice for him, reaching over and pulling Sakusa close to him, smiling as he kisses him.

“So Brazil? You really want to go?” Hinata asks, eyes sparkling like the stars above them. Then something cold overcomes him and he softens his hold on Sakusa, like a surrender. “Is this because of what I said when you visited me in Rio? You don’t have to do this for me, Kiyoomi. I don’t want to take you away from Japan, it’s our home and most of our friends and family are here. Motoya-san, Atsumu-san, Bokuto-san, Akaashi-san- there’s so many of them we would be leaving behind. And with your relationship with your mother being at its best for the first time in years and with Nami-obachan getting older-”

“Shouyou.” Sakusa interrupts. He brings both hands up to cup Hinata’s face, his thumbs lightly caressing his soft cheeks. “Home isn’t four walls on Japanese soil, home is where we are. I meant what I said at the finals, you’re my new dream. It’s not going to be easy, it’s going to be hard, but like I said in the past, no one chooses an easy dream—”

“—that’s why it’s called a dream,” Hinata finishes softly, and Sakusa smiles. “I remember.”

“I’ve spent years watching you go to places without me, and now, I’m going with you. As long as I’m at your side, I’m home,” Sakusa says, then he brings one hand up to affectionately weave his fingers through Hinata’s hair. “Okaasan and Atsuko-san can visit and you forget that obachan is going to live until she’s one hundred and one years old, and she’s only eighty-four.”

Hinata chuckles at that, then he lets out a breath. “Brazil, we’re really going to Brazil.”

“Well, I know _I_ am. You need to call Ms. Taviera and tell her you changed your mind.”

“You’re right! I need to call her!” Hinata exclaims in sudden realisation. He reaches for his phone but Sakusa grabs his wrist and holds it in place. “What are you doing? I need to call her!”

“You can do that tomorrow, and you can do _me_ now,” Sakusa says, like a purr. His eyes are dark with sudden want. “We just got engaged, Shouyou. I can think of better ways to spend our evening under the stars instead of making a phone call.”

“Won’t someone see us?” Hinata asks quietly, looking around at the very empty cove they’re in. “Or hear us? I’m not really into exhibitionism,” He adds, thinking that’s the more appropriate concern at hand.

“No one knows about this cove,” Sakusa reassures. “And besides, it’s late anyway. There’ll be no one at the beach to see or hear us.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” 

Hinata wrangles his wrist from Sakusa’s grip and clasps his shoulders in his hands. He yanks him forward and kisses him like a man lost in the desert who had finally found water. Desperate, wanting, _needing._

They make love, with only the stars and the seas as their silent witnesses.

Then they lay under the blankets, their bodies cooling as their limbs remain knotted together, their breathing slowing to a reasonable rate. Sakusa rests his forehead against Hinata’s, breathing in the scent of mandarins and lemongrass and revelling in the thought that this creature of beauty is his. They are together and this is forever, and Sakusa couldn’t be happier. 

They face each other, admiring how their lover looks as they bathe in the moonlight. Sakusa pulls a blanket over them, the cool night air starting to make itself known.

“Have I ever told you how much I love the way your hair curls here?” Hinata asks, gently runs his fingers through Sakusa’s curls.

“You haven’t,” is his answer.

“I should have.” Hinata’s hand ghosts over his chest, then drags a finger down the split between his toned pectoral muscles. “What about this?”

“No,” he replies, but he smiles, endeared by Hinata.

Then Hinata’s hand moves over to his face, his fingers lightly caressing over the two moles above Sakusa’s brow. His hand is surprisingly cool, a relief in Okinawan twilight heat. “Now I know I’ve told you how much I love this.”

“That you have,” Sakusa says, the skin of his cheeks warming under Hinata’s touch.

He taps his fingers on Sakusa’s skin and for a moment, Sakusa is lost, unsure as to what he’s referring to. It’s only when he looks down that he sees that Hinata is touching each of the moles on his body. “How about these?”

“Yes.” He even compares them to the constellations in the night sky and Sakusa feels unworthy of such a tender compliment. 

“This one too, I know I’ve told you about this.” Hinata’s fingers linger over his lips, lighting rubbing his thumb over them affectionately.

Sakusa closes his eyes. “Tell me again,” he whispers.

And Hinata does, for a time, until sleep takes them both. 

Then they wake up in each other’s arms, greeted by the early light of the sunrise and the sound of waves lapping on the shore. Hinata opens his eyes and sees soft hues of yellow, orange, and purple blur the sky. Sakusa is still asleep, but that doesn’t stay that way for long. He’s roused from his sleep when he feels Hinata sit up and immediately pulls him back down, wrapping his arms around him as if he’s some teddy bear. 

He giggles in Sakusa’s arms but doesn’t make any effort to free himself, perfectly content in his current position. “I wonder what sounds better: Sakusa Shouyou or Hinata Kiyoomi,” he says quietly, mostly to himself.

“Oh I’m definitely taking your name,” replies Sakusa, having heard Hinata. His words are slurred, voice still heavy with sleep but he answers with no hesitation. “I’ve spent so long waiting for this, since I was a kid, I’ve written ‘Hinata Kiyoomi’ in my diary more times than I can count. Motoya teased me for it.”

That’s new information and Hinata giggles softly. “Did you really?” 

“Did I what?”

“Dream of me? Of being ‘Hinata Kiyoomi’?”

Sakusa ponders for a moment, sleep slowing his mind, and then answers, “No... I thought of you.” And Hinata understands.

 _No, I did not passively dream of you,_ is what Sakusa means. _I love you, actively, consciously, thoughtfully._

Hinata smiles at that, then curls into Sakusa’s chest. It’s warm here, cosy and safe, it’s _home._

**11th december 2020**

“At this rate, Osamu-san’s going to cater for everyone’s wedding in the V.League,” Sakusa says to Hinata, who hums in agreement.

They watch as Osamu’s employees serve the first course of the wedding breakfast - why they call it a breakfast when it’s actually dinner, Sakusa will never know. As he and Kita are guests at Komori and Suna’s wedding, Osamu isn’t working in the kitchen himself. Sakusa knows that he would rather work with his employees, rather than watch them serve but in this case it can’t be helped. Though he doesn’t play an active role in cooking the food, his influence is clearly reflected in how his staff prepare and serve the food. It’s admirable really, the way that Osamu leads and runs his business with benevolent authority. After four years, he’s got it down to an artform. 

“Didn’t we ask him to cater for our wedding too?” Hinata asks, before taking a sip of his sake.

“Yeah we did.” Sakusa smiles as he wraps his little finger around Hinata’s, their hands resting on the table. “Four months down and eight months to go until we become husband and husband.”

Hinata reflects his smile. “Mr and Mr Hinata,” he says, almost giddily, “I love the sound of that.”

“Really? Right in front of my salad?” Natsu asks, frowning at her brother and brother-in-law-to-be. “Why wasn’t I seated on a table with okaasan or something?” She mumbles.

Ah, well, Sakusa feels sympathetic to her plight. Afterall, she’s a single eighteen year old, sat on a table with two couples, one of whom is married and the other is engaged to be married, both very in love with their significant others. Across the table, Bokuto and Akaashi are in light conversation, but any person with eyes can see the love between them, like it’s some visible aura.

After the appetiser and main course are served, it’s time for the first dance. 

Everyone watches as Suna takes Motoya’s hand, leading him onto the dancefloor, the both of them looking like something that stepped out of a dream. Sakusa sees the love in their eyes. He recognises that look. The look where you look into your lover’s eyes and the world around you ceases to exist, the only thing that matters is the person in your arms. It’s the same look he gives Hinata. 

Sakusa can even visualise the little cogs turning in Motoya’s head, trying to remember the steps to the choreography. There have been plenty of nights in the run up to the wedding where Sakusa and Hinata would video call Motoya and half of the call was spent talking whilst he practised the dance steps. It was one of the few times they ever saw Komori Motoya—no, _Suna_ Motoya—be nervous about something. Give him a crazy volleyball strategy and he’ll take it with confidence in his stride, but dancing? Fat chance.

After their song ends, they invite guests to come and join them. Bokuto is quick to offer his hand to Akaashi, who smiles and follows his lead. A few tables over, Atsumu and Osamu take their significant others onto the dancefloor too. Even Sakusa’s mother and her girlfriend take to the floor. 

“Come on, Natsu, let’s dance,” Hinata says, standing up and offering his hand to his little sister. 

“Huh? Why don’t you dance with Kiyo-nii instead?”

“He’s not the dancing type,” is his reply, a half truth that Hinata is aware of. Sakusa isn’t the dancing type, not in public. He’ll happily dance with Hinata in their kitchen on a Sunday morning as Ella Fitzgerald plays on a record player, or on an Okinawan beach, sand in between their toes and moonlight in their hair. 

So he watches Hinata dance with his little sister and smiles, knowing that in eight months time, it’ll be him dancing with Hinata in front of their friends and family. Suddenly, dancing in front of others doesn’t seem so awful and Sakusa finds himself looking forward to it.

🏐

Four months pass. The Black Jackals lose in the V.League Division 1 finals to EJP Raijin—specifically, to the newlyweds Suna Rintarou and Suna Motoya—after they had lost to them in the same match a year before. 

Despite the loss, it’s a good season to end their careers with the Jackals.

Hinata and Sakusa’s contracts end and so does their lease on the apartment. Well, for them at least. Aran moves in with Atsumu, having transferred from the Tachibana Red Falcons to the Jackals and together they renew the lease for another year. As much as Sakusa complained about Atsumu, he really wasn’t all that bad of a roommate and he’ll never admit it, but a part of him will miss the blond setter. Though he’s sure he’s much happier now that he won’t have to deal with the long distance relationship anymore.

Hinata and Sakusa move back to Tokyo, in Sakusa’s fully furnished apartment which he had formerly leased to tenants during his time in Osaka. It’s a temporary move, just somewhere to stay while they continue planning for both their wedding and their international move to Brazil. 

“Wow it’s been so long, I haven’t been back here since…” _Since that night,_ Hinata leaves unspoken and Sakusa mentally finishes. But there’s no heavy weight attached to the memory. A hint of sadness, perhaps, but no real weight, because it doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is where they are now and where they will go together. Why dwell on sad memories?

“Just think, in four months time, we’ll be in São Paulo moving into our new apartment,” Sakusa says, coming up behind Hinata and wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his head. “I just hope that whatever apartment we get, it’s been deep cleaned beforehand.”

“Instead of worrying about the cleanliness of our future apartment, which can be easily fixed, worry about your Portuguese,” Hinata teases and Sakusa sighs into his clementine hair. “We could try that thing where I speak to you in Portuguese all the time—”

“No,” Sakusa says immediately. “Not again.”

In an effort to help him speak the language conversationally, Hinata spoke solely in Portuguese, both when they were alone and with other people. At first, Sakusa took the challenge because he’s no half-hearted coward and he managed to last about two weeks. Though half of that was also carried by hand gestures rather than verbal speech. But then things got a little heated at the grocery store when Hinata had asked Sakusa to get a carton of eggs—” _caixa de ovos”_ —and he left the store in a fit. He calmed himself down in the car while Hinata finished buying the groceries that day.

“At least you know more than I did when I first started learning, so that’s something.”

“Only because you sometimes refer to certain things in Portuguese instead of Japanese. Plus they have some loan words in English too, so that helps.”

They kiss again and then draw apart and settle into their new but temporary home for the next four months.

**11th july 2020**

Their combined savings, sponsorship money, and bonuses earned over the years are more than enough to see them through their wedding and their move. As Sakusa didn’t have to take out a student loan or pay out of his own pocket for his university tuition—thanks to the college fund set up by his parents when he was a child—and the fact that he also held a part time job during college which he saved means he has plenty of money.

It helps that they don’t want a large wedding, which means less spending on people and more spending on their apartment in Brazil and that suits Sakusa just fine. He doesn’t like crowds, even ones composed of his friends and family, and Hinata prefers to invest their money into their future life in São Paulo.

With less than a month left to go, much of their wedding has already been planned and paid for. Or at least, most of the deposits have been paid for. 

The few things left are the floral decor which will be brought on the evening before the wedding and the finalisation of their suits, of which Sakusa is currently in his final fitting. He stands on a small podium, looking at himself in a large ornate mirror whilst the tailor works around him, pinning pieces of fabric together and measuring the clothes. 

“I know I’ve said it already, but thank you again for doing mine and Shouyou’s wedding suits and kimonos,” Sakusa says. 

“No, no, thank _you._ I am honoured that you asked me,” Atsuko says with a gentle smile. For the past thirty years, she owns and personally runs her own suitmaking business, which specialises in both traditional and modern designs. She is a highly sought after tailor in Tokyo and throughout Japan. And since she’s approaching retirement, she rarely takes personal commissions, one of which are Hinata and Sakusa’s suits for their wedding. “I’m just grateful to have a small part in the wedding, even if you won’t accept my money.”

“As I already told you, Atsuko-san, we’re not family yet. It wouldn’t be right for us to accept your money,” Sakusa says. Then he pauses and the corner of his lips upturn into a faint smirk. “Well, you could easily change that with a ring and four words to my mother…”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” says Atsuko with a playful gasp, “are you suggesting that I propose to your mother?”

“Well, you’ve been thinking about it, correct?”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Your Pinterest.”

“You follow me on Pinterest?” She asks, surprised.

Sakusa nods forlornly and sighs, “I’ve had an account for the past year while I gathered ideas for the wedding. Your account turned up as a suggestion to follow and well, my curiosity got to the better of me. I particularly enjoy your board of dogs and puppies.” Then he shakes his head. “But anyways, you’ve been thinking about proposing to my mother?”

“I won’t confirm nor deny those claims but… How do you feel about it?”

“You make her laugh and that’s enough for me.”

Atsuko’s eyebrows furrow and her lips purse in disbelief of the simplicity of his reasoning. “I thought there would be more to it than that.”

“Before she started dating you, I can’t remember the last time my mother laughed and like me, she does not laugh easy,” Sakusa admits. “You’re good for her, Atsuko-san. Just like how Shouyou is good for me. You both bring out the best in us and that’s enough.”

As Atsuko takes another pin out of her wrist pin cushion and shortens the length of the haori’s hem, she contemplates over Sakusa’s words and then smiles. “Truthfully, up until the Olympics last year, I didn’t think you liked me very much.”

“Oh, don’t take it too personally. I don’t like many of the people I care about,” Sakusa assures her. Then he replays his own words back in his mind and adds, “Wait, that sounds bad when I say it like that, I meant that I care about you and like you, I just don’t really express it that often. It’s not personal, it took me years to tell my cousin that I think of him as my best friend.”

But Atsuko laughs lightly. “Don’t worry, Sakusa-kun, I know what you meant.” Then she drops down to her knees as she starts to hem the hakama. “Are you excited about Brazil?”

The question she asks echoes back memories of when Sakusa had asked Hinata the same thing five years ago. Back then, Sakusa was content to love Hinata quietly from the background. Now, the only way to love Hinata in a way that is worthy of him is boldly, proudly, and fearlessly. Five years ago, Sakusa was left behind while his world flew to the other side of the earth. A month from now, he and Hinata will fly together and begin a new chapter in their lives in Brazil. So the simple answer to her question is...

“Yes, I am,” he says with a small smile, “I admit, I never imagined myself leaving Japan, leaving everything I’ve ever known.”

“Homesick already, Sakusa-kun?” Atsuko asks, teasing.

He chuckles and turns when she directs him to. “Not homesick. It’s more like apprehension, a hesitation to jump into the unknown. Alone, I could never do a move like this. But with Shouyou, it’s not as daunting as it could be.”

“Love makes us brave and can help us manifest the impossible,” Atsuko says thoughtfully. “At my age, I never expected to fall in love again and yet your mother inspires the same feelings in me. You are very fortunate to have found Hinata-kun. It is not a hard thing to find love, but to keep it is another thing entirely.”

“Do you wish you dated my mother sooner?”

Atsuko’s hands still and she seems to ponder his question for a moment before she returns to pinning the hem of his hakama. “No,” she answers, “I believe that everything and everyone happens for a reason. Each person that comes into my life is either a blessing or a lesson or sometimes both. I don’t regret all the people I’ve loved before. It took loving them to help me grow into a person who could fully love your mother. Sure, it may have been nice to have spent more years with Sayuri, but even if we had been together since college, there was no guarantee that we would have stayed together. Plus, if we had been together then, she wouldn’t have had you and then Hinata-kun would’ve been left to love another.”

Sakusa’s heart tightens at the thought of his sudden disappearance from existence. Hinata to love another? No, no, Sakusa refuses. His disapproval of such a thought must be evident on his face since Atsuko giggles lightly when she looks up at him.

“Don’t worry, Sakusa-kun. He loves you and only you,” she assures. Then she pushes herself to her feet, steps back, and folds her arms over her chest. “How does it feel?”

He lightly drags his hands down his haori, feeling the soft texture of the white silk. Then he holds a piece of his black hakama and lifts it lightly, allowing the fabric to fan out so that he is able to fully appreciate the beautiful hand-embroidered gold patterns. Sakusa smiles and allows himself a small twirl, letting the hakama flare out a little. He must look silly, he thinks, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s about to get _married_ to the love of his life, his childhood sweetheart—he’s allowed to enjoy the little things.

“It feels perfect.” Then he steps down from the podium and pulls Atsuko into a hug, which shocks her. She stands there, hands and arms frozen before she relaxes and carefully returns the hug, minding the pins in the clothes. “Sorry, I just got excited,” he says, after pulling away from her.

“Don’t be sorry, I was just taken aback. That was the first time you’ve hugged me,” says Atsuko with a warm smile.

“Well, family members hug, right?”

Her eyes are wide and she’s speechless for a moment. “I—family?”

Sakusa smiles and nods. “Family,” he confirms.

There’s a knock on the door and it slides open to reveal the receptionist who bows respectfully to them. “Sorry to disturb you, but Hinata-san is here for his final fitting.”

“Ah yes, I’m just finishing up with Sakusa-kun. Don’t let him in, I’ll come out and get him when I’m ready,” Atsuko says. Her receptionist nods her head and then bows out of the room, sliding the door shut behind her. Atsuko helps Sakusa back up onto the podium. “Right, let’s get those pins out of you.”

A few minutes pass and soon Sakusa walks out into the reception area and greets his fiancé with a kiss. When they come apart, Hinata looks over to Atsuko, all warm and bright. “Tell me, Atsuko-san, how good did he look in his suit?”

“Oh, he looked celestial, Shouyou.”

“He always does,” says Hinata with a soft laugh. He wraps his pinky finger around Sakusa’s and pulls up their joint hands to press a light kiss on his knuckles before letting go. “Alright, I’ll see you at home in time for dinner, meu carinho.”

“I’ll see you at home.”

**8th august 2021  
** **sakusa, age twenty-five**  
 **hinata, age twenty-five**

“You look so handsome, Kiyoomi,” Sayuri tells him as she affixes the himo to the inside seam of his haori. Her voice cracks a little and Sakusa looks away from his reflection in the ornate mirror, directing his gaze to his mother’s face. Her dark eyes shine with unspilled tears and her breathing shudders in her attempt to calm herself down. But it’s not out of sadness, but rather happiness.

“How did you feel before you got married?” He asks. Then remembers that asking about such a topic may bring up unpleasant memories and adds, “Only if you’re comfortable sharing. If it’s too personal, I understand.”

Sayuri shakes her head and says, “No, no, it’s fine. I was excited to marry your father and I was determined to not to be a bride that was late to her own wedding. I didn’t want to delay marrying him. I was actually ready thirty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, but my parents were so busy getting everyone else ready that we didn’t leave until fifteen minutes until the scheduled start of the ceremony.”

“So did you end up being late to your own wedding?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I remember being so frustrated during the car ride that I almost burst into tears. What upset me most was the fact that most of the guests thought that the reason we were late was because of me,” Sayuri clicks her tongue in disapproval at the memory, then sighs. “But then I saw Ryota, and all of my frustrations just melted away. None of it mattered because he’s there and when he’s there, I would have nothing to fear.”

“You really loved otosan, didn’t you?” Kiyoomi asks quietly. 

“I did,” Sayuri agrees. “I loved him and a part of me will always love him. I just no longer like him anymore and that’s okay. A relationship requires the involved parties to put in the effort, and along the way, we let life overwhelm our love and we did nothing to stop it.” She reaches out and carefully fixes her son’s wavy hair. “But that’s why I’m so happy for you and Shou-kun. You push each other to live your dreams and still make room for love. Not many people can say the same.”

“Okaasan, I—”

“Kiyoomi-kun, I just checked on your husband-to-be to make sure he was ready and _oh—”_ Nami, who bursts into the room, stops herself and takes in the sight. Sayuri steps aside as Nami approaches her grandson and takes both of his hands in hers. “You are the definition of elegance and grace. I’m grateful that I’m still alive to witness your wedding.”

Sakusa laughs lightly and tilts his head to the side in feign confusion. “Obachan, what are you talking about? Aren’t you going to live until you’re one hundred and one?” He reminds her. “You still have sixteen years left, can’t die before then.”

“Precisely, I still have life left in me yet!” Then she shakes her head, as if to refocus herself. “But that’s not why I came here. Everyone’s seated and waiting, and Shouyou is ready. Are you ready?”

Sakusa looks at his mother, who smiles encouragingly at him, then he returns his gaze to his grandmother. He lightly squeezes her hands in affirmation. “I’m ready.”

Exactly one year ago, Sakusa and Hinata wrote their names in the history books as gold medalist Olympians. Today, they’ll be taking each other by the hands and becoming one in the sight of the gods above. Only instead of tens of thousands of people sounding like a thunderstorm in a stadium as they cheer, there are tens of people whom they love and care for sitting in awe and reverence.

Having a Shinto ceremony was something that he and Hinata had agreed on during the early stages of their wedding planning, though, they don’t have a procession or have it at a shrine or restrict it to just their family members as tradition would have them do. 

“Tradition is simply just peer pressure from people who are dead,” Nami said to them, when they had told her of their plans to have a more contemporary Shinto ceremony. “Take that tradition and make it your own.” And they did.

In total, there are fifty guests at their wedding; a combination of their families, friends from high school, and select players from the V.League. They even sent invitations out to Heitor, Nice, Pedro, Romero and his family, and Oikawa, though only the latter is able to afford to come. By some miracle performed by his wonder woman of a grandmother, they are all able to fit within the courtyard garden of her house, surrounded by flowers and greenery. 

First, Motoya and Natsu, as their best man and maid of honour, walk together along the middle aisle, leading the groomsmen and the ring bearer. Bokuto and Akaashi have their arms looped together and behind them is Atsumu and Kenma. After the setters, Ichigo, who wears a little bowtie, trails up the aisle with the wedding rings on top of a cushion fastened around his belly. He earns many “aww’s” and whispers of “that’s so cute!” which only serve to widen his already large smile.

Then Sakusa and Hinata, accompanied by both of their mothers, walk up two opposite aisles. They catch each other’s eyes as they meet each other and tears swell at the sight of their husband-to-be. They have identical gold embroidered hakamas, but they have inverted colours for their haoris, where Sakusa wears black, Hinata wears white. Somehow, it makes his hair look as if it stole some light from the sun above.

Celestial was the word Atsuko used to describe how he looked in his kimono, but Sakusa thinks that word is more fitting to Hinata, for it is he that looks like some eternal being descending from the heavens above and Sakusa is the fortunate mortal who can spare a gaze upon him without disintegrating into ashes.

Sayuri and Mirai gently kiss their sons’ cheeks before joining the rest of their families along the front rows. Sakusa and Hinata, smiling, look at each other and hold hands with their pinky fingers. It’s fitting, really. Every promise they’ve made to each other has been sealed in their pinky fingers. Today is no exception.

As the priest begins the ceremony, Hinata mouths, _“I love you,”_ which only serves to widen the smile on Sakusa’s face and deepen the blush on his cheeks.

 _“I love you too,”_ he mouths in return, and that earns him a smile full of sunshine.

It’s a little surreal, to be looking at and to be holding your future in your hands. Sakusa finds himself half-listening to the priest, focusing only on Hinata’s beautiful amber eyes with flecks of gold around the rims, looking closely at how his clementine hair illuminates against the soft mid-afternoon sunlight.

They take their oaths and drink the sake provided. Then Sakusa bends down to collect the rings from Ichigo and makes sure he gives him a gentle scratch behind his ears in gratitude before standing straight once more, ready to exchange rings.

“And now I pronounce you husband and husband,” says the minister with a happy smile. “You may now kiss the groom.”

Kiyoomi moves but Shouyou moves faster—as he always does—and dips him first. He holds him in place, supporting him by having one arm against his back and the other holding his leg. He grins down at him and Kiyoomi is entranced. Then Shouyou kisses him. Sweetly, lovingly, tenderly. Like the first time they kissed, only there’s no fear. They can barely hear the sound of their friends and family cheering for them—or in some cases, crying for them.

As they walk down the middle aisle, hand in hand, the guests throw cherry blossom petals all over them, cheering for the newlyweds. They’re then led to a separate room which will allow them to change out of their kimonos and into their suits for the reception while their guests filter into the venue. In the case of their wedding, the guests go into the beach which Nami had somehow managed to privately book and close off to the public. 

Once they had announced their engagement to Nami, she offered her home as a possible venue for their wedding, saying that she could also provide overnight rooms for their guests at a discounted price instead of having them book into hotels on the mainland. And further still, have the ceremony in her courtyard garden and the reception on the beach.

When she had offered all of this to the newly engaged couple, Shouyou and Kiyoomi were lost for words. She had, essentially, planned out a good third of their wedding. 

“I’m so grateful to the universe for allowing our souls to meet and fall in love,” Kiyoomi tells his husband—wow, _husband—_ once they finish changing into their linen suits, perfect for the warm weather and the beach setting. They have no ties, and instead have a V-cut in their shirts, accentuating the bulge of their pectoral muscles. He caresses Shouyou’s face and presses a loving kiss on his forehead. 

“You know, I don’t know whether it’s the universe or if it’s the gods above, but I’m just glad that in this world, in this life, I am yours and you are mine, from this day until my last day, and all my days after that.”

“That’s pretty cheesy, Shouyou.”

His husband playfully punches his arm. “Says the one who thanked the universe for our souls meeting and falling in love.”

They’re greeted with many cheers and whoops (mainly from Bokuto and the Fukurodani alumni) when they join their guests on the beach for the reception party. A large marquee tent is put up, providing shelter against the Okinawan August heat. Inside the tent, there are six round tables of eight people, and then the top table for just the newlyweds. 

The skeleton of the tent is covered by foliage and flowers, accompanied with fairy lights. Paper lanterns hang, ready to be turned on when evening falls. The floorboards provide a stable surface for walking and dancing, rather than sinking into the sand. Three of the four walls of the tent are put up, while the fourth is left open so that everyone is free to feel the soft kiss of the ocean breeze.

Outside on the sand, naturally, a volleyball net is set up for a game while they wait for dinner to be served, because Shouyou and Kiyoomi are both volleyball idiots and couldn’t be talked out of it by either Motoya or Natsu. 

“Iwa-kun! Let me set for ya! I heard you were the ace of yer school back in the day,” Atsumu says, as takes off his suit jacket and rolls his sleeves up past his elbow. 

“In that case… Osamu-chan! Let’s annihilate your brother and my boyfriend together,” Oikawa offers and the younger twin doesn’t take long to accept the chance to humiliate his brother.

“You make it sound as if it’ll be easy to beat us,” Atsumu scoffs, folding his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes. “Remember what happened at the Olympics last year?”

“Oh that’s a low blow,” Oikawa seethes, narrowing his eyes at the blond. “Fine, be that way. Why don’t I set for your boyfriend, huh? Aran-chan, do you want to embarrass your boyfriend?” He calls out.

But Aran, who was in conversation with Kita, holds his hands up in surrender. “Nah thanks, he does that well enough on his own. Plus, I’m on vacation, no volleyball for me.”

They decide on a lineup of Atsumu, Iwaizumi, Shouyou, Washio, Motoya, and Kuroo, versus Oikawa, Osamu, Kiyoomi, Lev, Suna, Yaku, and Bokuto. There’s a fair balance between the professional and the retired players. Each team gets a set each, before the latter group takes the victory for themselves. Other guests are invited to play volleyball too—Natsu gets Oikawa to set for her, and if it weren’t her brother’s wedding, that would’ve been the highlight of her entire day.

By courtesy of Onigiri Miya-Kita, the food is served and it is delightful. But then come the speeches and when Motoya has to use a projector as a speech aid, Kiyoomi dreads what’s to come. His cousin could have anything in store for them, he has seventeen years worth of material. By the time he’s done with his speech, Kiyoomi and Shouyou could already be in a retirement home together.

Motoya lightly taps his glass and then clears his throat, catching everyone’s attention as he raises a microphone to his mouth. “I want to begin by telling you all a story. It’s a story about a lonely boy who found the sun in the most unlikely of places: a volleyball court. You see, when I was eight years old, I started attending an after school volleyball club with my neighbour. And one day, my cousin was staying for the evening and so came with me to the club, but only because that was preferable to staying at home with my younger siblings who had the unfortunate habit of dragging Kiyo-kun into their house games.” That earns a light laugh from the seated crowd.

“Anyone who knows my cousin knows that he’s not a person so easily impressed or inspired. But when he saw Shou-kun soar through the air like a bird, well, I think it’s safe to say that view changed his life, though I didn’t know it at the time. The first time I realised that the bond between Shou-kun and Kiyo-kun was something special was when I was nine years old. As the club started, my cousin and I walked into Shouyou being told by some kid that he couldn’t be a wing spiker, let alone the ace of the team, because he was too short. After dealing with him, we went home and had a sleepover. I went to the toilet, leaving the two of them alone and on my way back, I overheard their conversation. Shouyou asked if Kiyoomi will help him see the view from the top, if he’ll stand with him on the world stage, to which he replied, ‘always.’ Back then, I didn’t know what a third wheel was, but I knew that I felt the same sickly sweet feeling building in the back of my throat when I saw my parents being all lovey-dovey. 

“But I digress, Kiyo-kun’s seen that promise through from that day to this day and all the days that come after today. He kept his promise when Shouyou went to Fukurodani instead of Itachiyama, he kept his promise when he went to Brazil for two years. He’s never stood in the way of Shouyou and his dreams. That’s not all though, we’re missing something very important: Shouyou’s dream was never to just stand on the world stage, it was to stand _with_ Kiyoomi—now, as his best friend, I should be offended that this dream didn’t include me, but in truth, I’m more in awe of their willingness to sacrifice for each other’s sake. Kiyoomi sacrificed his love and Shouyou sacrificed his time, but not anymore. Everything they did was for this moment right here and now. 

“Last year, after Japan won the Olympic Finals and after that iconic post-match kiss between our newlyweds, the three of us hugged and cried. Then Shou-kun asked what people do when they’ve achieved their dream. Kiyoomi told him, ‘They find a new dream, and I’m looking at mine’—I know, they’re disgusting.” Motoya playfully rolls his eyes and pretends to gag as the listening crowd laughs fondly, knowing that his words have no malice behind them. “I’m joking, of course. I think after seventeen years of being the third wheel and enduring their suffocating pining for each other, I have license to tease them as much as I want.

“Kiyoomi and Shouyou’s story is one for the history books. They push each other and help each other’s dreams come true, but more so than that, they are each other’s dreams. Where one grew alongside the moonlight, the other learned how to grow with sunlight. I tease them all the time, and complain daily, but I love them dearly. No one else would make sense for them. So I invite everyone here to raise our glasses to you both. Shouyou and Kiyoomi, here and forever.”

“Here and forever!” Everyone choruses cheerfully, then takes a sip of their drink.

Shouyou and Kiyoomi stand and walk over to their best friend, engulfing him in a three-person hug, tears in their eyes. “That was beautiful, Motoya-san,” says Shouyou, gratitude evident in his smile.

“I was worried you were going to show some embarrassing photos and videos of us,” Kiyoomi admits as they break apart. 

“Oh, that was just the first half of my speech,” Motoya says and the corner of his lips pull up into a mischievous grin. He takes a small remote out of his pocket and presses a button, pointing it in the direction of the projector. “Now ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, if you’ll direct your attention to the screen, you’ll see a ten minute long video of the happy couple’s sweetest and most stupid moments. This video was compiled and put together by my wonderful husband, Rintarou. All material included is generously provided by my parents, Mirai-san, and Sayuri-san.”

“Motoya…” Kiyoomi says, warningly.

But his cousin simply pats his cheek and smiles innocently. “Oh come now, Kiyo-kun, you didn’t think I would let this golden opportunity pass me by, did you?” But then he sees the grim, dark look on Kiyoomi’s face and laughs. “It’s not going to be that bad. I’m mean, but not that mean, I wouldn’t embarrass you that awfully on your wedding day. Now sit down and watch,” Motoya says, ushering the newlyweds back to their seats.

Shouyou takes hold of his husband’s hand and gently squeezes. “It’s not going to be that bad, meu coração,” he says in assurance.

And Kiyoomi knows that’s the truth. For all of his cousin’s faults, he has his virtues too, one of them being that he knows his boundaries.

But still, it could be worse; the video could be a mess and horrifically embarrass him (it doesn’t), it could rain and a sudden gust of wind could uproot the entire tent (it doesn’t), and he could step on Shouyou’s toes during their first dance together (he doesn’t). Anything bad _could_ happen, but Kiyoomi can’t find it in him to care all too much. 

He has Shouyou, and nothing could ever be too bad when the sun is by his side, holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they got married!! next chapter: omihina's adventures in brazil :D  
> also, in my heart, oikawa won against japan but he just had to take the L for omihina 😌✊🏼
> 
> feel free to come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kouushu) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/omihina)!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here is the final chapter of the story. this fic is my personal love letter to omihina and their nation, i hope it finds you well ♡
> 
> disclaimer: i do not speak portuguese and relied heavily on google translate and several brazilian portuguese language websites for the phrases used in this chapter!

#  **harvesting:** **  
**

###  **because you sowed love in me, i can harvest peace from my soul  
**

**  
20th august 2021  
kiyoomi, age twenty-five  
** **shouyou, age twenty-five**

“If you could please sign here, and then that’s everything.” 

Kiyoomi takes the pen offered to him by Miss Oliveira, their rental agent, and neatly prints his name in its romanised form, before signing his signature (also in its romanised form, he had been practising his new signature for weeks). Then he passes the pen to Shouyou who does the same before he slides the pen and the paperwork back across the kitchen island to the agent. 

She hums under her breath as she skims over the paperwork again, taking care that everything is in proper order. Under the kitchen island, Shouyou holds onto Kiyoomi’s hand and squeezes lightly in a reassuring manner. 

The past four weeks have been insane and Kiyoomi now understands and empathises with the stresses and anxiety that brides experience before and after their wedding. The term ‘bridezilla’ is fitting since he too felt like rampaging a city in the run-up to the wedding because really, how hard is it to do as he and Shouyou asked? It’s not as if they asked for the moon. 

And in addition to all of that, two days after the wedding, they moved to Brazil. Well, actually, they had their honeymoon in Rio de Janeiro, allowing them to relax and just be together for a week. Then they travelled down to São Paulo, temporarily staying with the Romero family while they hunted for apartments, following the shortlist of possibilities compiled by Romero, Pedro, and Heitor.

In the end, after five days of travelling around the city, Kiyoomi was the one who chose the apartment. 

Not that Shouyou minded, of course; he wants his boyfriend—now husband—to be comfortable and at ease wherever they lived, a detail that Kiyoomi is always quietly thankful for. Plus, he trusts Kiyoomi’s taste more than his. His only request was that the apartment comes with a balcony, and luckily for Kiyoomi, there are balconies galore in São Paulo. 

Naturally, Kiyoomi delivered—with interest.

It’s a one-bedroom apartment on the twentieth floor of a twenty-five story complex, with an open plan living space and kitchen. It has a similar layout to Kiyoomi’s apartment in Tokyo, minus the mezzanine floor which separated the bedrooms from the communal space. There’s a half bathroom with a toilet and sink which is perfect for guests, and a full ensuite bathroom connected to their bedroom with a shower cubicle and separate bathtub. And the most remarkable feature of the apartment—and Shouyou’s personal request—is the south-facing balcony with enough room to grow their own tomatoes and spring onions, to hang a hammock, and for a table and two chairs should they want to eat a meal outside.

It’s a short fifteen minute drive over the river to Ginásio Marcello de Castro Leite, Asas’ home arena. Or at least, it would be if they had a car. As it will take time for them to qualify for a Brazilian driving license, they’re to rely on public transport or possible carpooling with their new teammates. The subway commute would be about thirty minutes, which doesn’t include the walking to and from the stations. Thankfully, the convenient location of the apartment means that they’re close to most of the local amenities, such as the supermarket, and their apartment complex has its own gym too.

Miss Oliveira then looks up and smiles warmly at them. She taps the papers against the surface, straightening them, before slipping them into a folder in her bag. Then she pulls out two keys hanging on two separate keyrings and hands them to the newlyweds.

“Welcome to your new home, Mr and Mr Hinata. Good luck with moving in! If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call the agency.” Kiyoomi’s comprehension of Portuguese is a little delayed but he can understand what was said to them. “Oh! And good luck with Asas! I’m a big fan, I can’t wait to see you both play!”

“Thank you, Miss Oliveira!” Shouyou says with a smile so bright that the sun envies him. “I’ll see you out.”

“No no, it’s okay! I’ll show myself out. Have a great day, Mr and Mr Hinata!” she insists and Shouyou doesn’t press further. They stand, wave and thank her again until she’s out of sight.

Once they hear the click of the door closing, Kiyoomi pulls his husband close, arms wrapping around his waist while Shouyou has his looped over his neck, his hands lightly threading through his husband’s soft, wavy hair. They sway a little in the empty space of the kitchen and Kiyoomi leans down, lightly resting their foreheads together. “I really like the sound of that,” he says with a smile.

“Of what?” 

“Mr and Mr Hinata,” replies Kiyoomi, then pulls away so he can press a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I know we’ve only been married for about two weeks, but I’m never getting tired of hearing Mr Hinata. Hinata Shouyou’s husband. The husband of Hinata Shouyou. Mr Hinata Kiyoomi. Or, as they say here, Mr Kiyoomi Hinata.”

“I like the sound of our names together too.” Shouyou giggles and pushes himself up on his tiptoes and kisses him. Then he pulls away and spreads his arms wide as he spins around the empty space, as if gesturing to the entire apartment. “Gahhh this is amazing! I can just see it now, there—” he points to the kitchen sink with the window in front of it, “—is where you’ll be washing the dishes on a Saturday evening, watching the sunset and listening to a podcast while I’m out on the balcony, watering our homegrown vegetables before coming in and watering our other houseplants.”

Kiyoomi rests his chin in his hand as he places his elbow on the surface of the kitchen island, meeting Shouyou’s amber gaze which is full of wonder. “That was extremely detailed,” he says with a chuckle. “What else can you see?” He asks, both endeared and curious by his husband’s imaginative mind.

Shouyou jumps onto the kitchen island, landing in a seated position. He’s just above eye-level with Kiyoomi now and he grins at this fact. He pats the surface of the island. “Here is where breakfast will be served, ready for you when you finish your shower after our morning run.”

“And you really believe that I’ll allow you to cook breakfast alone? Why aren’t we taking a shower together?”

“Because when we do take a shower together, we always end up taking longer than usual. We can’t do that in the morning, we’d be late for practice,” Shouyou tells him matter of factly.

“Do you want to know what I see?” Kiyoomi asks, and of course, Shouyou does and shows this by an eager nod. He pushes himself off the island and allows himself to be led by his husband into the middle of the room. Kiyoomi gently takes hold of his wrist and points to an empty space on the floor of their soon-to-be living room. “So here is where we’ll have our ottoman—”

“What’s an ottoman?”

“It’s like a pouffe, but with storage space.”

“...What’s a pouffe?” Shouyou asks and then he laughs when Kiyoomi lets out an exasperated (and truth be told, overdramatic) sigh.

“I’m trying to be romantic here and you’re asking me what an ottoman and a pouffe are!” He whines pitifully, like a child on the verge of a tantrum. His husband laughs lightly, turns his head, and gets on his tiptoes to press a kiss on Kiyoomi’s cheek, in an effort to make him less agitated.

“Sorry that I wasn’t rich like you and didn’t grow up with an ottoman or a pouffe,” he teases, and though Kiyoomi can still hear the loving undertone in his words, it doesn’t stop him from pouting down at his lover. “Okay, okay, sorry, continue with your ottoman and pouffe.”

“As I was _saying,”_ he sends a pointed look down at the clementine-haired man before resuming the position they were in before, “here is where we’ll have our ottoman in place of a coffee table—because we can put our feet up on ottomans, not coffee tables—and on a Friday night, after dinner and wine, we move it out of the way so we can have space for dancing.”

“Dancing?” Shouyou’s eyes glitter with delight. “I thought you don’t care much for dancing.”

“Well considering who my partner is and the fact that I really enjoyed dancing with you at our wedding, I’m happy to reevaluate my opinion on dancing.” Kiyoomi says, then he spins his husband around and clumsily pulls him into his arms, earning a laugh from him. Pink tints Kiyoomi’s cheeks and he admits, “That was supposed to be executed more smoothly, like in those cheesy rom-coms.”

“I think you shouldn’t try so hard,” Shouyou tells him, but he follows his lead, placing one hand on Kiyoomi’s shoulder and the other holding his hand. They sway in place for a moment, giving Kiyoomi ample time to build enough confidence to replicate the dance steps they did for the wedding. “Why dancing?” He asks as he’s twirled.

“It’s silly.”

“No reason could be silly.”

Kiyoomi says nothing at first, but Shouyou knows it’s not from hesitation, but rather taking the time to choose his words. “You know in television and in movies, when the little girl is being taught how to dance by her father by having her stand on his feet and he leads her? Yeah… I want to do that with our daughter one day.”

Shouyou almost trips over his husband’s feet. “O-Our daughter?” He asks. “You want a daughter?”

“Two, preferably, so they can keep each other company. Wouldn’t want them to grow up alone,” Kiyoomi says thoughtfully. He’s so focused on keeping count of his steps in his head that he doesn’t notice how Shouyou’s eyes widened and how he almost tripped. “If you want to have a son, then that’s fine, but really, why? Girls are just so much cooler and—”

“Wait, meu amor,” says Shouyou, interrupting him both in speech and motion. He brings them to a standstill and holds both of his hands. “You want children?”

“Yes…? I mean, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then why the confusion?”

“Do you want them _now?”_

“Oh God no,” says Kiyoomi with a mortifying shake of his head. He even takes a small step back at the thought. “We’re young, and we just got married, Shou, and not to mention that we just moved to the other side of the world. We’re in no position to adopt a child. But a dog…” He trails off in thought. “I think we could adopt a dog.”

“Let’s get some furniture in our apartment first before we even think about adopting a dog,” says Shouyou, laughing lightly when Kiyoomi pouts at him. Then he pulls his husband down for a kiss. “I like the sound of daughters. They’re going to have the coolest dads ever.”

“Do you really think so? I don’t have much experience in the fathering department.”

“Well, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?” It’s not sad, just factual. Shouyou’s father died when he was young, leaving him without a father figure to copy, while Kiyoomi’s father was so absent in his life that he may as well have been dead. “Besides, it just means whatever we do will be amazing in comparison.”

Kiyoomi hums in agreement and he pulls Shouyou closer, wrapping his arms around him. “That’s true. With nothing to measure up to, there’s little room for error.”

“And you know what I think?”

“What?” Kiyoomi asks.

“I think our girls will want for nothing,” Shouyou says with a firm sort of determination, as if verbally speaking it aloud will manifest it for the future. “We will love them unconditionally and openly. I don’t think we could go too wrong with that.”

“I look forward to it.” Kiyoomi smiles fondly and presses a light kiss on his husband’s forehead. “And since we’re not having children any time soon, perhaps we could adopt a dog? Or two?”

“Kiyoomi.”

“I’m just saying, it would be good practice.”

“You did not just compare a puppy to a human child.”

“Says the one who is the personification of a puppy himself.”

In the end, Shouyou agrees to adopt a dog in a year’s time, giving them ample time to settle in their new home and new pace of life.

The next month is spent purchasing furniture and household essentials for their apartment. If they were in Japan, they would have plenty of their own furniture to use, such as that bed and mattress they bought from Ikea two years ago, but as the cost of transporting such a large item exceeded its worth, so they collectively decided that it was best to sell as much of their own furniture to spare postal expenses and use the money for their furnishings in Brazil. 

Some things, such as photo frames and books, couldn’t be easily sold or replaced and so were packed and sent to São Paulo ahead of time. Specifically, sent to Nicolas Romero’s house, where he’s put aside all of Kiyoomi and Shouyou’s belongings in the corner of his garage. Once they had chosen their apartment, Romero kindly dropped off their things—he was grateful that their apartment building had an elevator because even though he’s healthy and in great form, he does not want to climb however many flights of stairs it takes to reach the twentieth floor.

After that, it was just a matter of furnishing the apartment and building up their pantry and food stock. Some furniture could be thrifted, such as bar stools for the kitchen island and bookshelves for the living room. But other items of furniture, such as a bed and a sofa, Kiyoomi could not be persuaded to buy secondhand. He insisted that they had to be new, to be sure of their state of hygiene and cleanliness. 

Not that Shouyou complained. He likes shopping with Kiyoomi and the combination of their wedding gifts and pre-existing savings, they have more than enough money to purchase a new bed and sofa. 

For the latter item, Shouyou and Kiyoomi agreed that a three-seater convertible sofa bed would be a sensible choice, as they lack a guest bedroom and so if they have friends or family sleeping over, they have somewhere for them to sleep. Further still, the sofa offers a hidden space for extra blankets and pillows. They also buy the matching loveseat which offers more storage—which, in an apartment like theirs, they’re welcome to any extra storage.

As for their bed, they end up buying a king size, Japanese style platform bed with built in storage components. One would think, after their previous bed, that they would be better at building beds together, but that isn’t the case so that night, they sleep on a mattress next to their half-built bed. 

A day and a Facetime call to Atsumu later, the newlyweds manage to fully assemble their bed. 

They break it in that night.

🏐

A month after moving in—at which point, they’re _mostly_ settled and have started to attend team practices—Shouyou insists upon having a housewarming party.

“We could invite our neighbours!” Shouyou tells his husband over breakfast on a warm Tuesday morning. “It would be really nice to finally meet Mr R. Souza from apartment number 201.”

“Which one is he again?”

Shouyou lightly smacks Kiyoomi’s arm, as if half-heartedly scolding him. “You know!” He says, gesturing wildly with his hands, as if that would help. “I left him a tonkatsu bento box on his doorstep when he moved in less than two weeks ago, remember?”

“Ohhh right, and then he left a container full of pão de queijo to say thank you, right?”

The clementine-haired man nods after taking a sip of his tea. “Yes, exactly. And then I made him an agemono bento in return and then remember last night? The pot of feijoada on our doorstep that we ended up having for dinner? It tastes just like Nice’s and she cooks hers the old-fashioned way! Do you realise how much work goes into making traditional feijoada? You have to soak the beans and desalt the pork beforehand the day before.” He sighs and purses his lips in thought. “I can’t make him another bento box, I need to up my game.”

“Why?”

“I feel very connected to him even though we have never met. I need to give back the same energy he gave me.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes fondly and rests his elbows on the dining table, holding his hot cup of tea with both hands. “Trust you to become friends with someone without having physically met them in person.”

“That wasn’t by choice! We just seem to keep missing each other when we drop the food off,” Shouyou bemoans. “We have made a connection through food, Kiyoomi, what could be a stronger… what’s the word…?”

“Catalyst?” Kiyoomi offers.

“Yeah! What could be a stronger catalyst for friendship?”

“Volleyball?”

“Oh... well, yes but that’s obviously a given.” Then he shakes his head. “Anyways that’s besides the point! We could meet all of our other neighbours too.”

“We live in a twenty-five story apartment building, Shouyou, are you suggesting that we invite the entire building?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous, we can’t fit the entire building in our apartment,” says Shouyou dismissively, though Kiyoomi knows that his sarcasm wasn’t missed, just unaddressed and ignored. “Like we could invite our floor and our teammates from Asas! I really want to hear Francisco sing again on the karaoke machine! Plus, I want to challenge Rafael to another push-up contest—Oh don’t look at me like that, there’ll only be like thirty people in our apartment. I don’t expect more than that.”

“That’s thirty more than I want.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Shouyou.”

“It’ll be good for us! It would give you the chance to practise your Portuguese, to make new friends, and strengthen our bond with the team!”

“I already have friends,” Kiyoomi protests, then he purses his lips and counts on his fingers—let’s see, there’s Motoya, Keiji, Kenma, Bokuto, Aran, Wakatoshi, Atsumu—then gives up. “I have more than five,” he finalises. 

“In this country.”

“...Less than five.”

“Exactly.”

Kiyoomi puts up a good fight, but ultimately Shouyou wins him over—no surprise there—and that’s how he ends up mixing caipirinha in some large pitchers in preparation for their housewarming party a week later, while his husband opens the balcony doors and readies the rest of the apartment. 

Shouyou wears an outfit he’s worn before: a half-open printed shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Its base colour is light cream and has mandarin-coloured tigers and olive green dragons printed on it. He pairs the shirt with a mesh vest which he wears underneath, and black, fitted trousers. 

Just the mere sight of him is enough to tempt Kiyoomi into cancelling the party. He won’t, as he knows how much effort Shouyou has put into planning the entire gathering, but _fuck_ it doesn’t stop him from wanting to take him into their bedroom and have his way with him.

Still, he’s sure that Shouyou knew what he was doing when he chose his outfit for the evening, so it’s only fair that Kiyoomi wears something just as criminal, something to make his husband look twice. He opts for his duck egg blue shirt, leaving the top buttons undone, teasing at a peek at his toned pectorals, while pairing it with a pair of off-white, fitted jeans. Normally, Kiyoomi would avoid light colours at a party, for the risk of spillages or stains is highly increased at such social functions, but as he’s in his own home, there’s no shortage of replacements if he has an accident—or rather, someone has an accident on him, for Kiyoomi is not clumsy enough to spill his own drink or food on himself.

By the time Nicolas Romero, his wife Rita, and some teammates from Asas whom Romero picked up along the way arrive, there’s already about fifteen people in the apartment and a few more on the balcony. Music plays in the background but it’s not an overwhelming sound, rather an accompanying noise to the food and conversation held between the guests and hosts.

“Sorry we’re a little late, Francisco over here—” Rafael sends a glare towards the setter who pouts and folds his arms over his chest in a petulant manner, “—was in the middle of his shower when we arrived to collect him and you know how long he takes to get ready.”

Shouyou nods sympathetically. “He’s always the last one out of the showers after practice.”

“You can’t just use shampoo and conditioner on hair like mine, Raf! It needs aftercare, it needs mousse and hair serum. How else do you think these curls stay so healthy and bouncy?” Francisco lightly pushes his curls up with the palms of his hands, showing off their luxe condition. “Look at Kiyoomi’s hair! Do you think he just uses shampoo and conditioner? I don’t think so!”

“Please don’t bring me into this.”

Francisco ignores him and continues to berate his teammate. “My hair is a part of my brand. Why else would L’Oréal sponsor me?”

“It’s certainly not for your personality,” Rafael teases, to which Francisco childishly sticks his tongue out at him. Rafael Peralta, whom they watched five years ago when they watched the South American Championship between Asas São Paulo and CA San Juan, is the newly appointed captain of Asas. Kiyoomi is secretly thrilled to be on the same team as the person who inspired his second serve.

What he’s still trying to adjust to is the sheer height that some members of the team possessed. 

Well, of course, being in a very height-dictated sport, he’s used to tall people—especially as Kiyoomi is a tall person himself, standing proudly at six foot three, almost four!—but these Brazilian volleyball players can even make him feel short. Shouyou, who is already used to being the shortest one in the room, doesn’t think too much of it. Kiyoomi, on the other hand, finds himself faced with the startling reality that perhaps he’s not as tall as he thought he was. 

Okay, he’s being a _little_ dramatic (pun unintended), but he’s used to being one of the tallest players not just on the team, but in any given general situation. Kiyoomi is used to being at eye level with others or looking slightly down. He’s scarcely had to look _up_ at someone when talking to them. One of them even dares to be six foot ten?! Not to mention that he also looks younger than them, bruising Kiyoomi’s dignity a little. 

The six foot ten giant in question is Renan Souza, Brazil’s twenty year old pride and joy who is currently playing in the Italian league. Must be spending his off-season at home, Kiyoomi thinks, before he flies back to Italy. Though he’s twenty, he looks so much younger in person with his brown eyes and sweet smile. Were it not for the ear piercings and the immense height he possessed, Kiyoomi might have mistaken him for a teenager. His rose quartz hair is long and is half tied up with some pins to hold stray locks in place, complementing his tanned skin quite nicely. 

“My name is Renan Souza, it’s so great to finally meet you both! I’m a big fan of yours, Ninja Shouyou! I’ve been following your career ever since you made a name for yourself in beach volleyball five years ago!” Renan enthuses with a bright smile and glittering eyes. “I was only fifteen then, and believe it or not, a lot shorter than I am now, but you really inspired me!”

Oh great, another Hinata Shouyou fan, Kiyoomi thinks. Ah well, he expected this. It can’t be helped, especially as Shouyou became something of a beach volleyball legend in Brazil, and now he’s going to do the same with indoor volleyball. Kiyoomi has yet to make his presence known on an international level—not including the Olympics—so this isn’t completely unforeseen.

And he can’t blame the younger man for being a fan, since he himself is a Hinata Shouyou enthusiast—Shouyou’s very first fan, he adds silently.

Still, he’s a little jealous. Kiyoomi doesn’t actively seek compliments nor does he thrive off of it like others do—namely: Shouyou, Bokuto, Motoya, and Atsumu—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy hearing the occasional word of praise.

“And Kiyoomi, oh my God, your technique and dexterity is off the charts! I’m also a big fan! You are so consistent and—” 

Oh. _Oh._ That’s new. Sure, Kiyoomi is used to fans—at one point, he was so concerned with how to politely decline gifts from fans—but he never expected to already find a fan in Brazil, let alone one as skilled as Renan. He stands there, speechless, mainly because he’s trying his hardest to understand the very fast Portuguese that Renan is speaking.

“—I tried mimicking the way you serve but my wrists aren’t as flexible as yours so I’ve had to adapt but remind me to show you soon—”

“And he said he was going to be calm, cool, and collected when he met you,” Rafael Peralta teases, elbowing the young middle blocker in his ribs. He turns to Shouyou and Kiyoomi with an apologetic smile. “We were at his apartment before we came here and he could not stop talking about the two of you.” 

Renan’s tanned cheeks darken with what is an unmistakable blush and he whines and playfully pushes Rafael, who laughs like a dad who delights in embarrassing his child. Then he huffs and shakes his head before putting on a smile as he produces a platter of brigadeiro from the bag he carries. “For tonight! Rita and Rafael helped me since desserts aren’t my strong point.”

“Oh! You didn’t have to do that, Renan,” says Shouyou humbly, “but it’s very kind of you.”

“Oh but I did!” He holds the platter up higher, offering it to them to take. “How could I not after the delicious mochi platter you made for me a few days ago? By the way, you have _got_ to teach me how to make my own mochi.” 

Wait.

Wait a fucking minute.

Kiyoomi turns to face his husband, who appears to have arrived at the same conclusion. They then, simultaneously and slowly, turn to stare (up) at Renan. “Do you mean to say that you, Renan Souza, are Mr R. Souza from 201?”

Renan’s smile falters a little and he lowers the platter, as if worried he’s said something wrong. “Y-Yes?” He answers, as if it’s a question.

“But… why are you in Brazil?” Wait, Kiyoomi realises that sounds awfully rude and while he normally doesn’t care too much for how he is perceived and received, he knows he’ll get a scolding from his husband later if he doesn’t correct himself now. “I mean, aren’t you in the Italian league?”

“Not anymore,” Rafael answers. “But it’s not a surprise that you didn’t know. It was only a recent, _last minute—”_ the captain sends a pointed look to the giant who seems to shrink under his gaze, “—transfer that not everyone is aware of yet. Did you know the only reason he came back was because Rae Taviera told him that you two had been recruited?”

Heat settles in the newlyweds’ cheeks, a combination of both flattery and the feeling of foolishness, while Renan splutters, cheeks also reddening but out of embarrassment.

“But that doesn’t explain why they didn’t know that Renan lives in the same apartment building as them,” Romero points out and Kiyoomi finds himself nodding along in agreement. The volleyball superstar turned coach turns to Shouyou and Kiyoomi. “Did you not think it was strange that they shared the same name?”

“Well no, since Souza is a very common surname in Brazil,” Shouyou says. “Like how Tanaka or Sato are in Japan. How were we supposed to know that our neighbour R. Souza who’s been giving us food is the same as Renan Souza who plays professional volleyball? And he always signed his notes with just his first initial and surname, nothing else!”

Rafael lightly smacks the back of Renan’s head and laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “Why didn’t you introduce yourself, idiota?”

“I got nervous! You try introducing yourself to your inspirations and not chicken out!”

“Ha! I already did that!” Says Rafael, as he puffs his chest out proudly, wearing a smug grin on his face as he throws an arm around Romero’s shoulders. “Now Nicolas is one of my closest friends!”

“Oh my God, Nicolas, I’m so sorry you have to deal with this porra loca.” Kiyoomi snorts at how genuine Renan sounds.

However, that earns another light smack to the back of Renan’s head from the captain. “Oi não te estiques, respect your elders, bobo!”

“You’re only seven years older than me, you’re the same age as my sister!”

While the two of them continue to bicker, with Romero trying to mediate between them, Rita apologises for their behaviour but Shouyou just laughs happily and shakes his hand dismissively. “No no, it’s fine, this all feels quite familiar to us,” he tells her.

Kiyoomi nods in agreement. “It’s like hearing Bokuto and Atsumu bicker with Meian trying to break them up.”

“I was actually thinking of you and Atsumu-san arguing,” Shouyou says, grinning, and Kiyoomi’s jaw drops in betrayal, though he doesn’t find himself disagreeing.

**late october 2021**

To Kiyoomi’s relief, their first official game was a straight three-set victory, one in which he scored the match point with Shouyou’s emergency set. After all of the congratulatory interviews, they come home with phones full of notifications from their friends and family across the world—at least, the ones who were able to watch the match live.

> [sent to _the ‘rock 🗿 paper 🧻 scissors ✂️’_ group chat]  
> S. MOTOYA: I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU TWO  
> S. MOTOYA: it’s like, really early in the morning and i woke rintarou up twice and he’s now annoyed at me, BUT I DON’T CARE!!!!   
> S. MOTOYA: ok scratch that i do care and i’ll cook him breakfast to make up for it BUT AHHHH my best friends are going to take brazil by a storm :”)
> 
> [sent to the _‘latin invasian’_ group chat]  
> O. TOORU: Show offs 🙄  
> O. TOORU: Jk jk, that was a fucking awesome debut. I better see you both at the South American Championships 😽
> 
> [sent to H. KIYOOMI]  
> I. ATSUKO: You were both fantastic! Your mother thought it would be easier to stay up all night instead of waking up early in the morning so she fell asleep in the middle of the first set haha! She’ll watch it later when she wakes up.
> 
> [sent to ‘ _3 owls and a weasel’_ group chat]  
> B. KOUTAROU: HINATAAAAA!!!!! OMI!!!!!! YOU WERE SO AWESOME!!!!! keiji and i both watched your match, we both woke up reaaaaallllyyy early!!!!   
> B. KEIJI: I’m so proud of you both! Brazil suits you 😊  
> B. KOUTAROU: BUT JAPAN MISSES YOU 😭 (HINT: WE ARE JAPAN)
> 
> [sent to H. SHOUYOU]  
> K. KENMA: You were great. Really happy for you and Kiyoomi ☺
> 
> [sent to H. KIYOOMI]  
> K. KENMA: You look happier. I’m happy for you.  
> K. KENMA: Don’t worry, I didn’t wake up early to watch the match. I actually stayed up playing video games.  
> K. KENMA: Wait, that's worse… Ignore my texts. Forget you ever saw this. And don't tell Shouyou.
> 
> [sent to H. SHOUYOU]  
> K. AKINORI: Hinata!!!!!! You were on fire out there!!!!  
> K. AKINORI: I was Facetiming with Komi, Onaga, Sarukui, and Suzumeda so we could watch the match together, but they fell asleep as soon as it finished. Everyone else is going to watch a stream of it later on in the day so expect their texts soon!!!!!!
> 
> [sent to H. SHOUYOU]  
> H. NATSU: Yeah yeah we get it onii-chan, you’re amazing or whatever 🥱
> 
> [sent to H. KIYOOMI]  
> H. NATSU: KIYO-NII YOU WERE SO COOL AND AWESOME OUT THERE!!!

Kiyoomi smiles at Natsu’s text to him, but it quickly morphs into a smug, shit-eating grin that would make Motoya proud when Shouyou shows him his own message. When he in turn shows his husband his text, Shouyou lets out a dramatic cry that would even put Atsumu to shame. “That’s so mean! I’ll show her!” He huffs and starts to furiously type a response to his sister, though Kiyoomi knows that there’s little weight behind his scolding.

It surprises him how easy it is for him to adjust to life in Brazil. He came with the expectations of everything being different. Different weather, different culture, different food. But after two months, Kiyoomi has discovered that there are similarities in the differences. 

The sun and the moon look the same. Perhaps the sea is warmer, but even that can be found in Japan if one goes to the south. Most meals are made from the same ingredients, just prepared and used differently. The feel of hitting a volleyball in São Paulo feels no different to hitting a volleyball in Osaka. And the stadium’s crowds may roar a different language but their love and awe of the sport does not change.

So no, Brazil is not as different to Japan as popular opinion might suggest.

With Shouyou at his side, it wouldn’t be hard to call any country “home.” No... it wouldn’t be hard at all.

🏐

“Is Renan coming over tonight?” Shouyou asks as he preps ingredients for dinner.

“Not tonight. He has another date,” answers Kiyoomi from the living room. He’s rewatching their latest match against Vôlei Taubaté from last week, critiquing his performance. Naturally, he can’t help but smile every time he sees the “K. HINATA” and “S. HINATA” in big, bold lettering across the backs of their jerseys. “Shame really. I wanted to lend him another book about joint flexibility which could help him get that sharp flick he’s been looking for in his serves.”

“I know. I was really looking forward to making some natto for him ever since he said he liked it,” Shouyou says with a sigh. 

“Nothing’s stopping you from making natto.”

“But will you eat it if I make some?”

A pause.

“...Yes?”

“That shouldn’t be a question, Kiyoomi!” He cries out, then shakes his head with another sigh. “I forgot to buy a raspberry trifle when I went shopping yesterday so remind me to add that to next week’s grocery list.” Kiyoomi grunts in acknowledgement.

The young middle blocker has become a part of Shouyou and Kiyoomi’s daily life. Not that Kiyoomi minds too much since Renan is great company, helps him with his Portuguese, and as well as their teammate, he’s also their neighbour who insists on offering them a lift to practice every day. However, he refuses any form of monetary payment and so they repay him by having him over for dinner twice a week and in Japanese lessons. 

That said, the Brazilian still insists on cooking one of the meals—and even on the other meal, he still tries to assist in any way he can—and the couple learn very quickly that it’s just easier to let Renan do as he likes, as he’s too stubborn to listen otherwise. Thus, Monday and Friday dinners between the three of them became a recurring event where they can relax and chat. And since these dinners always occur after practice, sometimes one of their teammates (usually Francisco and on occasion, Rafael) tags along and joins them.

However, Renan’s presence extends beyond dinners and shared car rides. He’s at their door at six thirty on the dot each weekday morning, joining them for their daily run and then has breakfast with them afterwards. If, on the off chance that he sleeps in and misses the run, he usually has coffee and breakfast freshly prepared in his apartment by the time the couple return from their run. 

“So who’s the lucky person on a date with our Renan?” Shouyou asks as he begins to julienne the carrots.

“I don’t know, I can’t remember their name… Sofia? Vanessa? Or maybe it was Benicio or Fernando…”

“You realise all of those names sound completely different, right?”

Kiyoomi huffs and lowers the volume of the television so he is able to converse more easily with his husband. “He goes out on so many dates that I can hardly keep track of them all. At this rate, I’m just not going to bother remembering their names until he’s brought one of them home to meet us.”

“And why would he bring someone home to meet us?”

“He thinks highly of our opinion,” Kiyoomi states, “and constantly seeks our approval, so of course he’ll bring someone home to meet us if he really likes them.”

“You make it sound as if we’re his parents."

The sound of chopping vegetables slows to a stop and the television is paused and then, silence.

Kiyoomi fully turns around to stare at his husband, the both of them, wide-eyed, with the reality of what Shouyou had just said processing through their minds. “We’re his parents,” he repeats. “How have we not realised this? He has dinner with us twice a week.”

“He has breakfast with us every weekday,” Kiyoomi adds. “And joins us for our morning runs.”

“We planned a surprise birthday party for him last month.”

“I lend him my self-care books.”

“He has a key to our apartment. And a toothbrush in the bathroom.”

“He knows our cleaning schedule and helps to keep our utility cupboard stocked up.”

“We buy a raspberry trifle every week,” Shouyou points out. “Even though neither of us like trifles.”

“Because he loves trifles and spends more time at our apartment than he does at his.”

“I called him _our_ Renan,” Shouyou whispers, “like he’s our child rather than our friend and teammate who is only five years younger than us.”

“As if that matters,” says Kiyoomi, scoffing, “if you didn’t already have a living, breathing parent, Bokuto-san and Keiji-san would’ve made you their legal son.”

The two are still in the middle of processing this new information that when Shouyou’s phone rings, they both jump like startled cats. Shouyou answers and after a few short exchanges of words, he hangs up and meets the curious gaze of his husband. “Renan’s date stood him up. He sat at the restaurant for an hour before giving up. He’s coming over.”

Kiyoomi’s dark eyes narrow into feline-like slits. “For an _hour?_ What, our Renan isn’t good enough for them?” He asks, scoffing as a wave of protectiveness overwhelms him.

“Right? Apparently being handsome, athletic, kind, and funny are no longer attractive traits?” Shouyou shakes his head in disapproval. There’s another shared pause and the two stare at each other once again, realising what they had just said. “We _are_ his parents,” he reaffirms quietly.

🏐

Resting his elbows against the south-facing sheltered balcony balustrades, Kiyoomi looks down at the city below the apartment complex and holds a steaming cup of jasmine tea in his hands. He gently blows across the top to help cool it down. He’s been awake since six, but the sun doesn’t greet him until about six thirty, shaking sleepiness from its rays as it peeks over the horizon.

Kiyoomi can see the early morning commuters flooding into the streets from the station and on their way towards the skyscrapers uptown, all dressed in their suits with coffees in their hands. The sound of dogs greeting other dogs on the street as they’re being walked fill the air, bringing a smile to Kiyoomi’s face. Every so often, there’ll be a jogger or two on their morning run and they’ll stop to pet the dogs. His own dog, a twelve-week old black labrador retriever puppy Megumi—affectionately named for the character from Jujutsu Kaisen, thus continuing his tradition of naming pets after manga characters—lays on the floor of the balcony, basking in the morning light and enjoying the gentle breeze.

Watching the world wake up from its slumber has become a ritual of his for the weekends. 

It’s not long before Shouyou joins him with his own cup of tea. “Bom dia, meu solzinho,” Kiyoomi greets his little sun and kisses his husband on the top of his head, on his beautiful, soft clementine hair before Shouyou crouches down to pet Megumi. Then he stands and leans his back against the balcony pillar, crossing his feet at his ankles. 

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view,” Shouyou says, sighing happily before taking a long sip of his tea.

Kiyoomi nods in agreement as he looks out of the balcony. “I know the feeling. We’ve lived here for over a year now and it still takes my breath away.”

Their apartment complex is surrounded by similar sized high-rise buildings, but their apartment—and therefore, their balcony—is in such a fortunate position where the park is directly in front of them, allowing them to see greenery rather than other buildings. As the balcony faces south, they get to see both the sunrise and sunset and experience the light for the majority of the day. On an especially clear day, if Kiyoomi really tries hard, he can see the river that flows through the heart of the city.

“Oh, I mean, yeah the balcony view is stunning, but I was actually talking about you,” Shouyou says nonchalantly. He takes another long sip of his tea while Kiyoomi’s cheeks develop a rosy blush. “So what are our plans for today? Farmer’s Market for some fresh mangoes? I know you don’t really like the ones from the store.”

“Renan already picked some up for us yesterday. Tried to give him some money but you know what that bobo is like.”

“So you did the usual?” Shouyou asks. “Slipped the notes inside the books we lend him? Tucked them into his bag when his back was turned?”

“The first one, though he’s starting to catch on because I found a hundred real note in my jacket pocket last night.” 

“So what I’m hearing is that we’ve got to up our game and that today, we’ve got absolutely nothing planned.”

“Sounds like my favourite kind of day.”

Doing nothing is one of Kiyoomi’s favourite things to do with his husband. Sure, he’s comforted by the reliable structure of a routine, but he’s not adverse to having a day with nothing to do. An empty day is simply a blank canvas waiting to be painted on, rather than to a to-do list, ticking off things to prove that a day hasn’t been wasted. But in light doses, a lack of productivity is healthy for the mind and good for the soul, allowing one to reset and rest, rather than continue like some machine on the production line of a factory.

To Kiyoomi, a quiet day in the apartment is as equally intimate as an elaborately planned seaside picnic. 

Romance isn’t wholly defined by grand gestures and epic stories. Romance is also defined by the little moments upon which grand gestures are built upon. It’s recognising the way their hands fit together and how their pinkies interlock perfectly, as if they were made for each other; it’s appreciating how crinkles form by their eyes and dimples sink into their cheeks when they smile; it’s treasuring each moment spent in their presence, especially when they’re doing something entirely separate from your own doings. 

After cooking breakfast together, they start their day of nothing by playing some Minecraft together (”Kiyoomi, can I put my bed next to yours?” Shouyou asks, to which his husband replies, “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already put an extra bed next to mine.”) before playing Nintendo games together, though Kiyoomi knows he’ll lose ninety percent of the time. He doesn’t mind losing if it’s to Shouyou.

“Come on, I just got lucky!” Shouyou says, voice raising in pitch as he defends himself.

Kiyoomi juts his chin away petulantly. “You really blue-shelled me when I was in first place on the final stretch of the final lap and then somehow _won_ while I came in twelfth place… again!” Okay, perhaps he minds sometimes, but only when it’s an outrageous and inexplicable loss. 

His mood lifts when Shouyou offers to cook and tells him to pick a movie to watch over lunch. He prefers it this way, really. Because between the two of them, objectively, Shouyou is the better cook. Not only is his food delicious, but they are always prepared with care too. He’s unafraid to try new ingredients and methods and easily reinvents dishes which Kiyoomi already thought were perfect. He, on the other hand, is not a bad cook by any means. He follows recipes to the letter with an almost religious approach, so his meals are only ever bad if the recipe itself was bad. 

That, and also if Shouyou had the choice of movie, he would either pick a comedy that Kiyoomi doesn’t find particularly funny, or some sort of romantic drama that would move Shouyou to tears but leave Kiyoomi feeling indifferent. So naturally, he picks a horror movie.

“Does it have to be a horror movie?” Shouyou asks, cheeks pale and eyes wide as he brings their food trays over to the living room.

“We’re watching it in the middle of the day so you’ll be fine,” Kiyoomi reasons as he lifts a blanket for his husband to climb under. Shouyou is too considerate to protest against him. 

For the first twenty minutes of the movie, Shouyou’s so invested into his lunch that he pays little attention to the screen in front of him. It’s unfortunate for him, really, since the action picks up right when he has nothing left to distract him so he’s forced to curl into Kiyoomi’s side or hide under the blanket whenever background music suspiciously stops playing. Megumi lays on the sofa next to them, too invested in holding a stuffed volleyball in place with his paws as he chews to pay attention to the horror on the screen.

Several jumpscares later and all five foot seven of him ends up in Kiyoomi’s lap. His arms wrap around his neck and if he squeezes any tighter, then Shouyou might accidentally commit mariticide and become a widower all at once. 

But Kiyoomi doesn’t mind at all. In fact, it was premeditated. He neither likes nor dislikes horror movies and only really enjoys them when he’s proven wrong on a plotline theory he predicted in his head. He only chose a horror movie because Shouyou cuddling him would be guaranteed. If it were a comedy, his husband would be wheezing from so much laughter that Kiyoomi might think he became an asthmatic. If it were a romantic drama, he would be so invested into the characters’ storylines and relationships that he would burst into tears if one of them died or if the relationship failed. 

So horror was the only genre of film that would ensure a full hour and a half of cuddles where he can comb through his husband’s soft clementine hair and whisper assurances that he’s okay, that he’s safe, and that he’ll protect him. 

When the credits roll, Shouyou is quick to jump out of his lap and seize control of the remote. “My turn to pick a movie! You go and get us ice cream!”

Well, Kiyoomi won’t say no to ice cream, especially if it’s the matcha flavoured ice cream they found in the Asian supermarket. But when he returns from the kitchen, to his horror (pun entirely intended), his husband has put on _The Notebook._

“Oh God no, not again. We’ve seen it like seventeen times!”

“You love it!”

“Clearly, from my reaction, I do not.”

In the end, as always, Shouyou wins him over and they sink into their large sofa bed with a pint of ice cream each as the movie begins. Occasionally, throughout the course of the film, Kiyoomi will mutter, “It’s stupid” in reference to the two main characters. 

But in the final scene, he’s caught crying by Shouyou who, likewise, is in tears. Even Megumi whines sadly when he watches the scene and paws at Shouyou, as if to say, “Make it stop being sad!”

“Can we do that?” He asks, after he blows his nose in a tissue. 

“What?”

“Die together in our sleep?”

“Shouyou, meu solzinho, I don’t think we have much say in the when and how we die.”

“I know that! I just mean…” He sighs. “I don’t think I could live in this world knowing that you’re no longer here. So you have to promise me that you’ll outlive me.” The complete and utter seriousness written upon Shouyou’s face as he lifts up his pinky finger is what causes Kiyoomi to almost choke on air.

“What kind of promise is that?! And what makes you think that _I_ could live in this world without you? That I could survive _your_ death?”

“When I went to Brazil after graduation!”

“Shouyou, the difference is that you didn’t _die.”_

“I was still a world away, that kind of counts!”

“No it doesn’t—Oh this is getting us nowhere!” Kiyoomi exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m going to die first and that’s that.”

“No, I am.”

“No, me.”

“Nuh uh, me!”

That continues for another minute before Kiyoomi gives in once again and says, “Fine! We’ll just die together like some homosexual Romeo and Juliet! Is that what you want?”

Shouyou pushes his lips together in a pout and says in a little voice, “Well you didn’t have to say it like that but I guess…”

They continue their day of nothing by having an afternoon nap, followed by a couple of board games, before they order takeaway for dinner—well, it’s their cheat day anyhow—which they eat during a k-drama that they picked together. After a couple of episodes, it’s nine o’clock and they prepare for bed by following their strict(ish) nighttime routine consisting of skincare and light stretches. 

By the time they’re done, they usually have around half an hour before ten o’clock and if you’re Hinata Kiyoomi, you’ll spend that time reading a novel whilst stroking Megumi—he’s currently two thirds through with _The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo._ But if you’re Hinata Shouyou, then you’ll try and find some website to read the latest chapter of the manga you’re currently reading.

“Wait, wait a second, let me read that again,” Shouyou says, quickly swiping up on his iPad to reread the manga panel he had just read. In his peripherals, Kiyoomi can see his husband’s jaw dropping in shock, before watching that facial expression morph into one of absolute upset, as if the mangaka had written and drawn that panel to personally hurt him. Kiyoomi understands the feeling. He’s experienced it many times with novelists. “They just died! Killed off in half a panel!”

Ah yes, the upset of the sudden killing of a character with no build up before and little to no explanation afterwards. The ‘Finnick Odair Death’ as Kiyoomi calls it. Without looking away from the page of his book, he gently rubs his husband’s back in consolation while he laments over the death of what appears to be a beloved character. 

Still, character death aside, it has been a good day. Nothing outrageous or dramatic, but simple. There’s nothing like doing nothing with the one you love, Kiyoomi thinks as he retracts his hand from Shouyou so he can turn the page of his book and resume petting Megumi. 

Adventures don’t always have to be bold and daring, they can be quiet and simple too. Though, Kiyoomi admits, novelists rarely write about quiet adventures. Quietness is often depicted to contradict the very nature of adventures but in truth, they are the very reason for adventures. Stories born out of too much quiet or not enough quiet. Love is the same.

When he was younger, Kiyoomi dreamed of conquering the world with Shouyou, like some star-crossed lovers in a fantasy fiction. But now, conquering the world seems so unimportant compared to selfishly spending more time in bed with his husband. The flame that burns the brightest is also the flame that dies first. It is the steady, constant flame that lasts. When all is said and done, when all the songs are sung, and all the battles are won, is the person whom you conquered the world with the same person whom you’ll live out the rest of your days with? 

Kiyoomi’s answer is yes, it will always be yes. No matter what Shouyou chooses, whether it be a legacy to be remembered by or a lifetime of peace or some mix in between, Kiyoomi will be there.

**february 2023  
kiyoomi, age twenty-six  
** **shouyou, age twenty-six**

If they took the team bus, the journey to Belo Horizonte from São Paulo would have been a gruelling seven and a half hours. But as volleyball is one of the most popular sports in Brazil, second only to football, they can easily afford a one hour flight—and in a private jet! And their match against Minas T.C. isn’t until tomorrow, giving them plenty of time to rest and prepare properly. It also gives them the opportunity to explore the city, which they take advantage of after the coaches dismiss them for the evening.

Francisco, who was born and raised in the city, is their tour guide for the afternoon and shows them the prominent landmarks of his hometown. Once evening falls, he takes them to a bar restaurant which has a glorious panoramic view of Lake Pampulha.

Food and drinks are ordered and the team converses casually amongst each other, with the occasional burst of laughter scattered here and there.

“Looks like we’ll be playing against you next year at the Olympics,” says Renan, as he pours himself a glass of water. Kiyoomi doesn’t miss the sigh in his sentence. “That’ll be… interesting.”

Francisco scoffs. “More like it’ll be a pain in the ass. Kageyama’s precision setting is insane and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out if Atsumu learned a fourth serve.” He has, Kiyoomi thinks to himself bitterly. The blond called him up a month ago to brag about it. “They know how to use their spikers, it’s terrifying.”

“Sounds like you’re not as good of a setter as you think you are,” Rafael teases, earning a soured glare from the setter. “I’m kidding, idiota! But we won’t have to worry about that, I mean, come on, Shouyou and Kiyoomi will probably become Brazilian citizens and play with us like that Oikawa did with Argentina.”

Well, that’s certainly news to Kiyoomi. And judging by the equally surprised look on his husband’s face, it’s clear that he doesn’t know about it either.

“But I thought it takes four years of permanent residency?” Shouyou points out. 

“Technically, yeah, it does. But only two years of residency are required for people who have provided service to the country,” Rafael explains.

“But… But I don’t want to join the military,” says Shouyou, his voice sounding small and his eyes growing wide like a puppy. His response is met with a round of laughter, though not unkind. “What did I say?”

“Oh Shouyou, he didn’t mean service like military service,” says Francisco, “but service to the country, like a scientific breakthrough or winning the Superliga—which you’ve already done once and with the way this season is going, you’ll win it twice.” 

“So we could technically apply for citizenship this year, if we wanted?” Kiyoomi asks, speaking up for the first time since the topic was brought up.

“If you wanted to,” Francisco confirms with a nod. Then the subject of conversation shifts but Kiyoomi’s mind stays fixated on the topic of citizenship. He meets his husband’s amber gaze across the table and knows that it’s something that they’ll need to talk about after tomorrow’s match.

The mere thought of changing nationality should leave a bitter taste in Kiyoomi’s mouth and a feeling of nausea in his stomach. His instinct should have been to say, “No.” So he wonders why it wasn’t? Why, upon entertaining the idea of a citizenship change, that Kiyoomi finds himself intrigued, and dare he say, welcoming to it? But the thought of leaving everyone behind, to never be able to play on the same side as Motoya and his other friends again… It makes him pause and think twice.

Still, he’s grateful that he’s not alone in this potentially life-changing decision. Whatever happens, whatever they choose, as long as they’re together, Kiyoomi doesn’t care what country he represents. After all, hitting a volleyball in São Paulo feels no different to hitting a volleyball in Osaka.

**september 2023  
kiyoomi, age twenty-seven  
** **shouyou, age twenty-seven**

Taking two weeks off to fly back home to Japan just a month before the start of their third Superliga would have been impossible had weddings not been the reason for their absence. Not only were they guests at not just one, but _two_ weddings, in which Shouyou and Kiyoomi played integral parts as the groomsmen for Atsumu and Aran, along with Suna, Bokuto, Akagi, and Omimi. Naturally, Osamu and Shinsuke were the best men.

The second wedding, which was several days later, was more personal and far more intimate, with only twenty people in attendance. Kiyoomi took his seat after he walked his mother down the aisle.

“She looks beautiful,” Shouyou whispers, as he and Kiyoomi watch Sayuri stand at the altar in her wedding dress. 

It’s a simple, elegant dress made of ivory organza. The sleeves are short and a sash cinches the waist while the skirt falls and flows freely. Her veil is only chapel-length and there’s only a very small train on her dress. Atsuko, on the other hand, wears an ivory-coloured, three-piece suit—which she made personally by hand.

“They both do,” says Kiyoomi, watching as his mother and soon-to-be other mother.

(Oh no, he’s going to need to find some way to differentiate between them when he addresses and talks to them).

“But most importantly, she looks happy,” Kiyoomi adds. And by God she does. Her smile gives her a youthful glow and lights up her face. Her body is relaxed, not as tense as she once was, and her eyes glitter as she looks at her future in front of her.

When it’s time for the exchange of vows, Atsuko says, “Your breath is a gift to my lungs.” And with that, everything seems to click into place.

In literature, of which Kiyoomi is well educated in, fairy tales always lead up to the wedding day and end with the simple phrase, ‘And they lived happily ever after.’ It allows people to fill in the blanks for themselves, for whatever ‘happily ever after’ means to them. Often, it included children and the raising of a family but stories tend not to venture beyond this point, Kiyoomi notes. Perhaps because fairy tales think of marriage as the ‘be all end all’ of life and courtship, that once you’re married, you’ve _made_ it, whatever that means. 

It has been two years, give or take, since they took their matrimonial vows, but truth be told, Kiyoomi doesn’t feel all too different as a married man. He doesn’t feel particularly changed, let alone feel as if he’s undergone a metamorphosis of sorts that everyone told him he would experience. 

Then he reflects and realises that marriage isn’t about his sole change, but rather the transformation that he and Shouyou will undertake together. As they live by their vows, as they experience the joys and miseries and the successes and misfortunes of life, Kiyoomi comes to understand that their wedding day is not a final destination, but rather the place where a new chapter unfolds and the adventure begins anew, where every breath drawn by your significant other is a gift to your own lungs.

**thursday 8th august 2024  
men's volleyball, semifinals match  
kiyoomi, age twenty-eight  
** **shouyou, age twenty-eight**

“Kiyo-chan! Shou-chan!”

“Motoya-san!”

“No no no—shit.” Kiyoomi curses as he collides into a hug with his cousin and Shouyou, in front of all the cameras before the match, reminding everyone of their friendship four years after it had been introduced and broadcasted to the world. At the urging of both the Japanese and Brazilian PR teams, the three of them are pulled into a pre-match interview.

“Gotta say, one of the most talked about topics coming into this game has to be you two,” the interview says, nodding at Shouyou and Kiyoomi. “We met you at the Tokyo Olympics representing Japan and now here you are, four years later at the 2024 Paris Olympics representing Brazil as naturalised citizens and in an hour’s time, you’ll be playing against the very same people whom you won a gold medal with, including your very own childhood best friend and cousin! How does that make you feel?”

“I’m really excited!” Shouyou answers, giving Kiyoomi more time to think about his own answer. “If I had played on the same team as Motoya-san all my life then I might be a bit nervous, but growing up, we’ve all played with and against each other and each time is more fun than the last! I always want to play against strong people and I know how strong my former teammates are, so this match will be anything but boring.”

“It’s like some kind of family reunion,” Kiyoomi adds. “A lot of our former teammates are close personal friends of ours but they’re also our rivals. I know that they would say the same of us. Friendship and rivalry can coexist with the right people and I know that they won’t go easy on us just because we’re friends, in fact, they’ll likely play harder to beat us.”

“Can you corroborate that, Motoya?” The interviewer asks, repositioning the microphone near the libero. 

“Of course I, along with many others on the team, would love to play alongside Kiyoomi and Shouyou once again, but there’s this thrill that comes with playing against your friends. Sure, we miss them, but we’re really looking forward to beating them,” answers Motoya, with a deceptive sugary smile which wins over the media. “When we won the gold medal together at the last Olympics, we asked ourselves what do we do now that we’ve made our childhood dream come true? Kiyoomi said that we just have to find a new dream, and theirs took them to Brazil while mine kept me in Japan. It doesn’t matter how far apart we are or what new dreams we pursue because we’ll always have our first dream.”

It must be some kind of natural talent, Kiyoomi thinks, to look and sound angelic and sweet but to have a personality that would put the devil to shame. He can’t even be angry at his cousin, he’s half in awe and half in disbelief that people actually fall for what he says—hell, even he finds himself being almost convinced by it. Key word: almost. 

The interviewer is nearly moved to tears but composes themselves as they clear their throat and face the camera. “Well there you have it! We will be back when the match begins but I, along with everyone at the studio, wish you both the Brazilian and Japanese teams good luck at the semifinals!”

After the insane serves, the immaculate receives, and incredible spikes from both sides of the court, it is Brazil who triumphs over Japan. Their former teammates bow to them, both out of respect and in recognition of their abilities, but Shouyou and Kiyoomi know the deeper meaning behind their actions: _It’s not over until it’s over, be the last one standing on the court._

**saturday 10th august 2014**   
**men's volleyball, gold medal match**

Two sets to Brazil, two sets to Argentina, with the latter having the advantage with the match point.

The man with constellation skin soars through the air with a crescent moon for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and though messy, it’s still received by Argentina’s libero. Kiyoomi growls under his breath as he positions himself in the back, ready to receive any straight shots that Renan and the other blockers can’t get while Shouyou is a few steps ahead and away from him, ready for a possible cross shot. 

Kiyoomi catches the sharp, chocolate-coloured gaze of Oikawa Tooru and before he can think to move, the Argentine setter shifts the position of his hands from a set to a dump. But of course, Oikawa couldn’t just do a normal setter dump, oh no, that would be too basic for him. Instead, he smacks the ball with such ferocity, that it may as well have been a spike. 

The Brazilian libero receives it, but the torque on the ball is so intense that it swerves above and behind him. Instinctively, both Kiyoomi and Shouyou run and leap to save it before it touches the ground. They dive onto the floor, arms out to dig underneath it, but the ball, ever an elusive being, is just out of reach. 

The sound of a volleyball cleanly hitting the court floor echoes throughout the entire arena, stunning the crowds into stupefied silence before erupting into thunderous applause and cheers. 

Kiyoomi and Shouyou, both on the floor, push themselves to their feet and stand, watching as the Argentine team deservedly pile onto Oikawa in congratulations. They experienced the same thing, four years ago. It’s a feeling that stays with you, that makes you hungry for more. Studies show that silver-medal winners are less pleased with their achievements than bronze-medal winners, as they were so close to gold but just missed, while the latter are happy to have placed at all. Yet somehow, this loss doesn’t feel so devastating. A silver medal is still a medal, and time and time again, Kiyoomi and Shouyou have overcome difficulties to earn the right to stand on the world stage, not just once, but _twice._ How many can say the same?

They’re more experienced and a little less youthful now. If time and the gods above are kind, they may live to play on this hallowed ground once more.

“You know what, Kiyoomi?”

“What is it, meu solzinho?”

“I think it’s time for our new dream.”

“I think you may be right.”

**23rd may 2016  
kiyoomi, age thirty  
shouyou, age twenty-nine**

“Are you ready to see your new home?” Shouyou cooing at the tiny baby in his arms. He, along with Kiyoomi who holds the other twin in his arms, enter their home. Megumi, now five years old, greets them excitedly and is torn about which child to say hello to first as he looks back and forth between the two, tail wagging like a pendulum. 

One year and nine months of being on a waiting list, of countless interviews and background checks, and letters sent back and forth between agencies and them, two little twin girls have finally become a part of their family. The process was tedious and at many points, they almost gave up, but seeing the little bundles of joy in their arms makes it all worth it.

They began looking to buy a house soon after they returned home from the Olympics, knowing that their apartment in central São Paulo would be too small for them to raise a dog and two young children. So with the help of Romero, his wife Rita, Renan and other teammates from Asas, they were able to find a reasonably priced house which is a little further out of the city center, close to the neighbourhood in which the Romero’s live.

Naturally, Shouyou left the actual choice of the house to his husband, wanting him to be comfortable and at ease wherever they lived. He trusts Kiyoomi’s taste more than his and he’s always had an eye for good property—must be a rich person thing, Shouyou thinks, until he remembers that by marrying Kiyoomi, he too is now a rich person, and not to mention the fact that they are both highly successful volleyball players. 

Kiyoomi, again, found a house which perfectly suited their needs and wants.

It’s a small, partially furnished villa with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and one toilet room for guests. The master bedroom with the ensuite bathroom is Shouyou and Kiyoomi’s, the second room is for the shared nursery, though as the girls get older, eventually they’ll have their own rooms. The fourth room currently serves as a library but with the sofa bed in place, it can quickly convert into a guest room when needed. The dining area is joint with the kitchen which has a decently-sized pantry while the spacious living space is separate and is connected to a small foyer entrance. There’s a beautiful tropical garden which boasts a large, tiled swimming pool, and in fulfilment of Shouyou’s request, the villa has two large terraces from which they can enjoy the sea view. There is also a spacious garage and basement, though the latter will be converted into a home gym.

In their five years of living in Brazil, they have both been able to secure their driving licenses again, which makes buying this house possible as without a car, it would have been a very lengthy commute to the arena each day. Ginásio Marcello de Castro Leite is a thirty minute drive from their home (forty-five minutes if it’s a particularly busy day) and it’s approximately a fifteen minute walk to the nearest supermarket. 

“And this is your new room,” Kiyoomi whispers to the small baby in his arms as he opens the door to the nursery. “I hope you like the colour yellow because that’s what we’ll be dressing you in until we can tell you apart from your sister who’ll be wearing green,” he mumbles. The girls both have tanned skin and round, prominent dark brown eyes, which look more like Kiyoomi’s than Shouyou’s eyes. Though, if one looks really closely, Rinoa, the younger between the twins, has a more amber undertone to her eyes.

“You can still tell them apart even if they’re not wearing their colours,” Shouyou says, following him into the room. “Rinoa has a little beauty mark on the left side of her chin, just like you!”

“No, Yuna has the beauty mark,” corrects Kiyoomi. 

Shouyou looks down at the baby in his arms and sees that there’s no beauty mark. “But I thought I was holding Yuna!”

“You’re holding Rinoa.”

“Oh... Right, okay, let’s get them out of these hospital onesies and into the cute ones we bought them.”

Ten minutes of getting their tiny limbs out of their old clothes and into their new ones, Shouyou and Kiyoomi realise something. “They look like a lemon and a lime. If we had a triplet, they’d be in orange and they’d be all three citruses.”

“I could be the orange! Look!” Shouyou holds a baby in each arm, bringing them close to his face so as to bring attention to his hair. As he smiles brightly at his husband, the two babies giggle and grab a tiny fistful of Shouyou’s bright clementine hair. Kiyoomi smiles fondly at the sight and shakes his head in amusement before taking Yuna from him, prying her little fingers from his hair. 

Shopping for baby clothes and items is probably one of the most serotonin-boosting things that Shouyou has ever done, especially as he ooh’s and aww’s at every tiny piece of clothing—once, there was a pair of itty bitty baby booties with cute little owls printed on them and Shouyou just _had_ to get them, fully knowing that the babies will only wear them a few times.

When they got confirmation about adopting twin girls from childbirth, Renan organised their teammates from Asas and together, bought them a massive starting care package full of nappies, baby formula, and muslin cloths. On the other side of the world, Motoya did a similar thing and gathered their family and friends together to pool several items and pieces of clothing to be packaged and shipped off to Brazil. Two months after they had told people about their exciting news, Shouyou and Kiyoomi received a package containing various Vabo-chan merchandise, a stuffed Jackasuke mascot, several owl-themed paraphernalia, and lots of clothing (Shouyou recognised quite a few to be Natsu’s hand-me-downs). 

It doesn’t take long for the girls to start getting sleepy again, and so they set them down in their cribs and cover them with a blanket. Kiyoomi adjusts the air conditioning settings for the room while Shouyou sets up the baby monitor and lightly sets the speaker to play lullabies. When that’s all done, the new fathers stand in the doorway of the nursery and watch over their daughters fondly.

They have no illusions of how difficult it’s going to be, but anything worthwhile requires time, investment, and sacrifice. 

“I didn’t know I could love someone as much as I love you,” Kiyoomi murmurs to him as they watch over their sleeping girls. “It wasn’t until I held those girls in my arms that I realised that I would do anything to protect them. I would even kill for them.”

Shouyou rolls his eyes, all too used to the dramatics of his husband but understands the sincere love he has for them, even if it has only been a mere seventy-two hours since they were born. “Hopefully it won’t ever come to that, but I understand how you feel. I know it’s a part of life, but I don’t ever want them to be hurt, not if I can help it.”

Yuna Vitoria and Rinoa Aurea, welcome to our family, Shouyou thinks affectionately as he and his husband retreat from the nursery.

Two months later, on a lazy Sunday morning, a new post goes up on Kiyoomi's instagram.

> Liked by **sunamoto** , **bokouto** , **keiji.b** and **99,254 others**
> 
> **kiyoohina** #ilivefor mornings like this 🥰 @ninjashou
> 
> View all 10,984 comments
> 
> **sunamoto** MY FAVOURITE NIECES (DON’T TELL MY OTHER NIECES) 😭😭
> 
> **sunamoto** i am once again calling dibs on best uncle and only @natsuhina can be best aunt i don’t make the rules i simply abide by them 😚
> 
> **natsuhina** @sunamoto we better get those best uncle and best aunt mug and coaster sets!!
> 
> **natsuhina** can't wait to squish their cheeks and spoil them rotten!!!!!!!
> 
> **natsuhina** also ok like i know they’re not your biological children BUT HOW DO THEY STILL LOOK LIKE YOU??? YUNA EVEN HAS YOUR MOLES 
> 
> **sunarin** @sunamoto i still stand by not having children and living with dozens of cats but i admit, they’re cute
> 
> **bokouto** YUNA AND RINOA SHOULD HAVE A PLAYDATE WITH HOSHIKO AND HIKARU WHEN YOU NEXT COME AND VISIT JAPAN 😁💕
> 
> **keiji.b** I live for mornings like this too, I’m so so happy that you have this with Shouyou-kun, it’s a happiness like no other ☺
> 
> **bokouto** awwww keijiiiii 😭
> 
> **renansouza** Can’t wait to see them this weekend!!! You’re such a cute family ahaha pls adopt me
> 
> **rafperalta** oh please you’re basically their son (also cute pic kiyoomi!!)
> 
> **osamiya** Rinoa-chan looks so cute in that onigiri onesie I sent over :)
> 
> **miyatsu** yuna-chan looks cuter in the volleyball onesie i sent js 🙄
> 
> **osamiya** get out of my comments
> 
> **miyatsu** @miyaaran yuna-chan’s cuter right??
> 
> **osamiya** @kitashins tell Tsumu that Rinoa-chan is cuter
> 
> **miyaaran** @kitashins I vote that we ignore our husbands 💆🏿‍♂️
> 
> **kitashins** @miyaaran Agreed.
> 
> **miyatsu** WHAT THE HELL
> 
> **osamiya** Well done, now I got the silent treatment from Shinsuke, thanks a lot Tsumu 
> 
> **oiktooru** @iwahajime oi let’s have kids now!!!! 😠
> 
> **iwahajime** don’t need one when we have you
> 
> **oiktooru** the disrespect…..
> 
> **oiktooru** don’t see how @sunamoto can be the best uncle when he’s on the other side of the world 🥱 tio tooru is the best 💁🏽‍♂️
> 
> **sunamoto** try again when you have been best friends with shou-chan and kiyo-chan for over two decades 😽
> 
> **kodzuken** Cute family 🧡
> 
> **kononoha** WAAAHHHH HINATA-KUN THEY’RE SO CUTE!!!!! YOU HAVE TO BRING THEM TO JAPAN SO WE CAN MEET THEM!!!!!
> 
> **harukomi** and so we can tell them all about what you were like as a kid 😛
> 
> **washitats** Adorable ❤
> 
> **hoshiiumi** KINGS AND THEIR PRINCESSES!!! 😤😤
> 
> **francisco.s** I love their cute little curls! 
> 
> **ushijimawakatoshi** Very happy for you, Kiyoomi-kun.
> 
> **tobiosetter** 👍🏻
> 
> **ninjashou** i live for us 💕

**20th may 2027  
kiyoomi, age thirty-one  
shouyou, age thirty  
yuna and rinoa, age one**

They spend the twins’ first birthday in Japan, giving their friends and family the opportunity to meet them for the first time—second time in Motoya’s case, as he and Rintarou flew to Brazil to visit when the twins were six months old. For Sakusa Nami, now ninety-one years old, age is slowly settling in her bones but she perseveres and is able to meet her great-grandchildren. 

“Oh they are beautiful,” she coos, lightly stroking their rosy, plump cheeks with her finger. “Can you say ‘obachan’? Try it with me, oba-chan,”

“Oba…” Yuna begins, but trails off and she scrunches up her nose and tries to muster as much stern concentration as a one year old can. “Oba…” She tries again, but comes up short and huffs in frustration.

“Chan!” Rinoa giggles, clapping her stubby little hands together. From the force of the clap, she almost tumbles backwards, but Kiyoomi is there to catch her and hold her steady.

“Oba...”

“Chan!”

“...Oba!”

“Chan!”

Nami smiles down endearingly at them and gently pokes each of their noses. “I’ll take it.”

Throughout their month-long stay in Japan, they visit their friends and family. Some days are spent with their former teammates from MSBY Black Jackals and the National Team—Kiyoomi managed to capture a particularly funny moment on camera in which Atsumu and Ushijima, who were holding a twin each at the time, slowly realised that they had, in polite terms, filled their nappies and the odorous stench had reached their noses. 

Most days were spent with their families, in which Yuna and Rinoa were spoiled relentlessly by their grandmothers and their countless aunts and uncles. Thankfully they don’t receive gifts such as toys and clothes, which would’ve been a nightmare to try and squeeze into their luggage without exceeding the weight limit. Instead, they’re given money (Kiyoomi makes a mental note to remember to get the yen exchanged into real).

“I’m surprised that they’re a little more...” Atsuko hums as she thinks for the appropriate word, “...quiet since they’re quite physically energetic.”

Mirai nods in agreement. “Shouyou started speaking when he was ten months old. By the time he was one, he could say a whole sentence. Granted that the sentence was ‘I need the bathroom please!’ but still.”

“Well children who grow up multilingual tend to take a longer time before they speak,” Sayuri says, using her experience as a pediatrician to explain. “And if I have it right, you’re teaching them three languages?” She looks to her son for confirmation.

“Yeah, we’re teaching them Japanese, Portuguese, and English. We might be introducing Spanish to them later on.”

“So what do they call you?” Natsu asks. “Otosan? Dad?”

Shouyou grins and picks up Yuna, resting her at his hip while he holds her with one hand. He points at his husband and then looks down at his daughter. “Yuna-chan, who’s that?” He asks.

Yuna claps her hands together and with a giggle, she cries out, “Papai!” 

Kiyoomi follows Shouyou’s lead and picks Rinoa up, holding her in his arms. He points at his husband. “Rin-chan, who’s that?”

“...Papa!” 

Laughter is shared all around and after Kiyoomi lets Rinoa wander over to Natsu, his mother stands with him and together they watch the scene fondly. “For someone who had such an absent father, fatherhood suits you pretty well.” 

A couple of days were dedicated to the Fukurodani alumnus who had come from all across the country to gather and reunite, and then the weekend following that was spent with the Bokuto family.

It took a year, but Koutarou finally got the playdate he wanted for their children. Hoshiko is a couple of years older than the twins, while Hikaru is only a few months older. Still, the four of them get along quite easily which is expected for babies and many videos and photos capture the little moments between them.

“They’re best friends already! Look at them!” Koutarou exclaims, looking positively beside himself with glee as the babies babble to each other in a language that only infants can understand. 

“Koutarou, making friends is not difficult at their age. I’m sure, if given the chance, they would make friends with a volleyball,” Keiji tells him, but finds himself equally endeared at the sight of the children laughing and playing together.

Hoshiko holds Rinoa’s cheeks in her little hands and squishes gently, looking both amused and awed at how such an action creates a funny face. Meanwhile, Yuna shares one of her fruit-themed hair clips with Hikaru—she gives him her banana hair clip, which amuses Kiyoomi as he knows that she’s not fond of bananas.

Later on, a post goes up on Instagram of the two young families in which Shouyou and Kiyoomi are carrying Hoshiko and Hikaru while Koutarou and Keiji are holding Yuna and Rinoa. The caption reads: “Baby Swap?”

Instagram user **sunamoto** comments on the post saying, “Don’t you dare replace them!”

🏐

Being a father, Kiyoomi finds is not as difficult as popular culture makes it out to be. Don’t get him wrong, being a father doesn’t come without its struggles, the constant worrying of ‘am I doing this right?’ and other thoughts along a similar vein. But in terms of just being present and _there_ makes him wonder what made it so difficult for his own father. But more so than that, he wonders how his father could bear being apart from his own children. The mere thought of being away from his girls for too long… No, he won’t even entertain it.

Witnessing the little moments—and sometimes being lucky enough to capture them on camera—inspires a unique kind of warmth in Kiyoomi’s chest. 

He feels it when Rinoa offers to help Shouyou with baking and his husband uses it as an excuse to let her lick the bowl full of chocolate residue and he pretends to look the other way because “Shhh Papai can’t know, this is our secret.” He feels it when Yuna wants so badly to help him with the cleaning, so he gives her a microfibre cloth and tells her to just wipe the door and when she’s done, she tugs on his pinky finger and drags him to the door, showing off all the hard work she did. He experiences that warmth whenever he or Shouyou give them a plate of food and without fail, always say with the utmost sincerity, “Thank you, papai!” or “Thank you, papa!” 

To have a young child, who looks at you as if you’re the reason for the moon’s existence, as if you had personally put the stars in the sky just for them, well, to Kiyoomi, there are few things better than that. He once looked at his own father the same way until he learned for himself that the moon is just a satellite that orbits the earth, an unintended creation from a planetary collision. He learned that the stars were just balls of gas burning millions of miles away and that there was no divine power behind their positioning. It’s why, as a child, Kiyoomi invested so much time in books. He wanted to see the romance and wonder in the world around him again. He wanted to see colours, rather than the bleak shades of grey in the world.

That won’t happen to his girls, Kiyoomi swears quietly to himself. He will make it so that his daughters can believe in wishing on stars, that any dream they have can come true, no matter how big or small. They will never hunger for imagination and wonder.

Kiyoomi tucks them both into their bed, making sure to put their favourite stuffed toys under the covers with them—for Yuna, it’s a Vabo-chan plush while for Rinoa, it’s a stuffed owl whose wing she nibbles on during her sleep. Megumi, who used to sleep at the foot of Shouyou and Kiyoomi’s bed, now sleeps by the door of the nursery, protectively watching over the girls during the night.

“Papai? Can you sing for us?” Rinoa asks, her voice small and coated with tiredness. 

“Please?” Yuna adds. Kiyoomi looks over to her and sees how her eyes, though sleepy, still grow wide like a puppy’s. Oh, she must’ve been taking lessons from Shouyou and Megumi, he thinks to himself.

“You want me to sing? Are you sure?” The twins nod while squeezing their respective plushies closer to them as they nestle cosily into their blankets.

Now Kiyoomi isn’t a singer, which is why singing lullabies is a job he leaves to either Shouyou or a stereo. Ask him to read a bedtime story, he’ll happily do so. But sing a lullaby? Kiyoomi can already feel his voice abandoning him for thinking of singing. Still, Hinata Kiyoomi is not someone who leaves things unfinished, nor is he a terrible father so he clears his throat. 

“É tão tarde; A manhã já vem; Todos dormem; A noite também,” he begins a Brazilian lullaby called _Acalanto,_ soft and uncertain, with an insecure blush forming on his cheeks. “Só eu velo; Por você meu bem; Dorme anjo; O boi pega neném.”

A soft, dazed smile grows on both Yuna and Rinoa’s faces but their eyes are more awake than before. They stare up at their father, completely entranced and hanging on to each word of the lullaby. He continues the verse a little pitchy, but it doesn’t matter to his daughters who are captivated by each word, listening. “Lá no céu; Deixam de cantar; Os anjinhos foram se deitar; Papaizinho precisa descansar; Dorme anjo; Papai vai lhe ninar.”

“Boi boi boi,” Kiyoomi turns his head and sees Shouyou standing by the doorway, lightly singing along with him as he watches them fondly with a soft smile. By the beckoning of his husband, he joins him and together, they continue singing a lullaby to their daughters. “Boi da cara preta; Pega esta menina; Que tem medo de careta.”

By the time they finish the song, both sets of eyes have already fluttered to a close, noses peeking out from their blankets and looking absolutely adorable. Kiyoomi gently brushes their hair from their face, fingers threading through their soft curls, as he smiles lovingly at his daughters. 

“If I could capture moments and put them in a bottle, this would be one of them,” says Shouyou softly. Kiyoomi can’t help but agree.

**saturday 5th august 2028  
men's volleyball, gold medal match  
kiyoomi, age thirty-two  
** **shouyou, age thirty-two  
yuna and rinoa, age two**

The man with constellation skin soars through the air with a crescent moon for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and it’s received by Motoya who smirks at him from across the court. Damn cousin. Kiyoomi feels his right wrist twist at an awkward angle but there’s no time to think about the pain, not while the ball is still in the air, not while there’s still time to win.

Move forward, push harder, fly higher, and do it again and again and again. Do it as many times as needed until the ball hits the ground, do it until the final whistle blows, do it until you’re the last one standing.

Atsumu sets the ball to Bokuto who does an incredibly sharp cross shot, only for Francisco to put his hands underneath it, forcing it up in the air despite the gravity fighting against him. The ball is in the air, at the expense of their setter touching it first. Kiyoomi is overwhelmed with the sudden, mortifying thought that this will be the last time he’ll be able to play like this. 

He needs to touch the ball one last time. Just once more, just so he can say he’s given everything he has.

Kiyoomi drives himself to lunge forward, lowering himself as much as he can so that he is able to get all ten fingers underneath the ball in order to send a perfect toss over to Shouyou. The immense strength needed for such a set forces him on his knees but he’s able to watch his husband, the love of his life, the man with clementine hair soar through the air with sunshine for a smile. His arm is poised, he swings, he hits… and it’s in!

It’s in and Kiyoomi smiles.

Once, when Shouyou fell to the ground and didn’t get back up, Kiyoomi thought that volleyball isn’t worth all the pain. If this is the price one has to pay to stand on the court, to devour the sport until it starts to devour you back, forcing you on your knees, twisting your body in monstrous ways, then it’s a price he doesn’t want to pay. But he was naive then. He understands why the price must be paid. To see the sun soar so close can only be paid for with sacrifice. 

For this view, Kiyoomi would pay the price over and over again.

The pain which adrenaline had been delaying starts to set into his wrist and he winces when he moves his hand. He doesn’t need to see a doctor to know that this is the end for his professional volleyball career. Regardless of how meticulously and cautiously he cared for his body and his joints, Kiyoomi is surprised his wrists didn’t cave in sooner after actively playing the way he did for over two decades. 

He’s thought about this moment for a long time. He thought that he might be devastated. Or perhaps left feeling hollow and purposeless. But none of those feelings come to him. What’s left is the feeling of satisfaction and fulfilment. 

All he’s ever wanted to do was to practice and to train, paying proper care and attention to everything and everyone, today, tomorrow, and all the way up to the day before his last game. And if luck smiles upon him, to go out thinking he could be done at any time and still be satisfied with the time he spent on the court. 

And to end his last game at the Olympics, on the centre court for the entire world to see, well, an athlete couldn’t ask for a better setting for their denouement, their final act, so to speak.

Kiyoomi looks to the private viewing box, where his family looks after the twins, both of whom are wearing Brazilian jerseys and have the Brazil flag painted on their cheeks. He lifts his good hand and waves up to them before being tackled by his husband. Shouyou leaps and wraps his legs around his waist while Kiyoomi struggles and somehow manages to momentarily support his weight while they kiss in celebration of their victory. 

Kissing Shouyou like this never gets old. To feel the rush of adrenaline still rushing through his skin, to taste the sun’s warmth on his lips, to tangibly hold victory in his hands. Kiyoomi will miss it.

When he lowers his husband back down to the floor, he winces in pain again and this time, Shouyou notices. Celebration morphs into immediate concern for his husband. “Meu carinho, are you alright?”

Kiyoomi smiles and gingerly lifts his wrist as a simple explanation. Shouyou says nothing but understands everything, and he pushes himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him once more. “I’ll be okay.”

He doesn’t say that to reassure Shouyou or even himself. Kiyoomi says it as fact, because he will be okay. Eventually the pain will subside and his wrist will function as a wrist should. He may never play the way he did before, but that’s okay. Volleyball isn’t the only thing in his life that drives him forward anymore. 

He has Shouyou, whom he loves and loves him in return. He has friends who never allow him to feel alone. He has a family who want him, flaws and all. He has two beautiful daughters who look at him as if he’s the reason why flowers bloom.

He has love in all its forms, and by God, that’s what keeps the earth spinning on its axis.

🏐

A month after his third Olympic appearance, Hinata Kiyoomi announces his retirement from professional volleyball; reasons are unknown, but rumour has it that he’s dedicating his time to his family. 

**april 2031  
kiyoomi, age thirty-five  
** **shouyou, age thirty-four  
** **yuna and rinoa, age five**

“I don’t understand how this happened,” Kiyoomi says nasally. 

He blows his nose into a tissue and Shouyou lifts the trash can so he can dispose of his germ-infested tissue. Then he pushes himself to sit up in their bed and proceeds to glare at his reflection in the mirror in the corner of their room, as if angry at his own body for betraying him like this. “I _never_ get sick. I’ve gotten injured, but I’ve never gotten sick in my life _ever.”_

“First time for everything, right?” Shouyou says and _oh,_ Kiyoomi can just _feel_ him trying not to giggle at his sudden misfortune. What kind of husband takes pleasure in his significant other’s suffering? A Hinata Shouyou kind of husband apparently. “I get to look after you for once. You always looked after me and Motoya-san whenever we got sick.”

“I hate this,” he grumbles. “How did you deal with this back then, Mr. I-Got-a-Fever-and-Got-Benched?”

“Oi don’t call me that like it’s some sort of nickname, that was eighteen years ago!” Shouyou scolds and teasingly hits Kiyoomi on his forehead with the tissue box. “And I guess it’s just like anything really. There wasn’t any way around the fever, no health potion that was going to magically heal me right away like in video games, so I just went through it. I couldn’t help myself so I let others help me. Then again, I wasn’t great at managing my health back then and I learned from what happened.”

“But I manage my health,” Kiyoomi retorts, then sneezes again which is followed by another glare at his reflection. Shouyou laughs at him, but it’s not unkind. “So why do I have a fever?”

“Well not everything has a reason,” Shouyou says, almost sagely. Kiyoomi might have fallen for it had he not added, “But I think it might have had something to do with going to sleep without having a hot shower, especially as you came in from the rain.”

“But I blow-dried my hair,” he says. “And normally I’m fine.”

“Yeah, _normally._ Clearly this was an _abnormal_ situation,” explains Shouyou, attempting to sound wise. 

“You’re really enjoying yourself at the expense of my misery, aren’t you?”

“Just a little bit.”

There’s a tiny knock on the door and after Shouyou tells them to come in, in waddles five year olds Yuna and Rinoa. “Is papai going to be okay?” Rinoa asks in such a small and sincere voice that Shouyou’s heart almost breaks. “Papai is going to be all better soon!”

“We can look after him!” Yuna insists. She waddles out of the room and leads Megumi into the room. The ten year old dog is all too used to picking up after the twins and this time is no exception. He holds a small toy briefcase in his mouth and after Yuna points at the ground, he lowers it before jumping onto the bed to rest at Kiyoomi’s feet. Yuna opens the case and takes out the toy stethoscope that Renan had bought her and Rinoa as part of a doctor’s toolkit toy set. “I can cure papai! I see them do it on the television!”

“I can do it too! I can give him in... ingestions!” Rinoa says proudly as she takes out a plastic syringe from the case. 

“You mean injections, minha vida,” Shouyou corrects gently.

“Yeah! Injections!” He feels like he should be concerned that a five year old is so excited about sticking fake needles into their father but he won’t disillusion their imagination just yet. He and Kiyoomi share a look and they silently agree to go along with whatever the girls have planned. “I just put this in your arm and then tah dah! All better!”

“Wait Rin-chan!” Yuna says, pushing the syringe down. “I have to listen to papai’s chest first!” 

“Put your face mask on first, Yu-chan,” Kiyoomi says, as he puts his own face mask on. “We don’t want you catching my cold, do we?” She shakes her head and with the help of her papa, she puts a mask on before climbing up onto the bed. Shouyou watches his daughter listen to his breathing—he wonders if she can actually hear anything through the plastic.

When she’s satisfied, she hops off the bed. “Your turn, Rin-chan!”

“Aren’t you lucky, meu amor? To have not just one, but _two_ talented doctors look after and dote on you,” Shouyou says and in his peripherals, he sees Yuna puff her chest out proudly while Rinoa grins smugly as she administers the “medicine” via plastic injection.

“Oh I know. I hear they’re the best doctors in the entire country,” Kiyoomi adds, playing along. “Just like their grandmother.”

“We’re not just doctors, we’re also the number one volleyball players in the world!” Rinoa tells them.

“Just like our papa and papai!” Yuna agrees with a bright smile. Shouyou restrains himself from telling her that there can’t be more than one number one player. (Because it would be Kiyoomi.)

“Oh really?” Shouyou muses. “You’ll have to introduce me to them some time!”

The girls giggle and lightly poke his belly. “We’re talking about you and papai obviously!” Says Rinoa and Shouyou pretends to suddenly understand what they’re talking about. “You’re so silly, papa,” Rinoa giggles. Then she turns to Kiyoomi and tilts her head in confusion. “Why isn’t papai any better?”

Oh. Oh no. This may have been a slight oversight on Shouyou’s part. How is he going to explain that the non-existent medicine she had administered doesn’t actually work? Wait… wait… maybe he won’t have to. He just has to be smart about this. “That’s because medicine takes time to work. Plus, papai needs to have a short nap and when he wakes up, he needs to eat some food. So how about the three of us start preparing dinner and we’ll leave Megumi here to look after papai while we cook?”

Yuna and Rinoa don’t seem to suspect anything and Shouyou breathes an internal sigh of relief. Phew. Potential crisis averted.

“Get better soon, papai! We’ll cook the most delicious, the most scrumptious food you’ve ever tasted!” Yuna promises.

“Yeah! It’s going to be sweet, salty, sour, and spicy all at once!” Rinoa adds. That sounds like a meal fit for Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, Shouyou thinks grimly. He presses a light kiss to Kiyoomi’s forehead and leaves him some actual medicine to take once they’re out. Then he ushers the girls out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.

An hour and a half passes when Kiyoomi wakes up from his short nap. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm before climbing out of bed and wrapping a robe around his body and putting a mask on. He feels lighter than before, less weighed down by his own body, and it’s easier to breathe. His nose is no longer blocked, so once he steps out of the bedroom, he can smell the sweet scent of tomato sauce. 

He walks downstairs and into the kitchen and watches as Shouyou wears a black apron over a fresh t-shirt and jeans as he’s cooking spaghetti. This seems normal enough until Kiyoomi looks closer and sees the red sauce on his apron, along with bits of tomato and meatball and hotdog—ah, he’s making Filipino style spaghetti, Kiyoomi deduces, that explains the sweet tomato sauce. 

On the island counter, there’s a tipped over blender, with bits of what Kiyoomi assumes to be mango and pineapple spewed around it, and the thick yellow mix spills over the counter and onto the floor, creating a surprisingly large puddle. There are several strands of broken uncooked spaghetti on the floor which clearly didn’t make it into the boiling pot and there’s several washcloths on the counter near the stove where the spaghetti sauce seemed to have been spilled. Then Kiyoomi finally spots Yuna and Rinoa fighting over the garlic bread baguette by the fridge like it’s some game of tug of war. The whole kitchen is a mess of smoothie mix and spaghetti sauce and it’s rather overwhelming to walk into. Kiyoomi has half a mind to turn around and head back upstairs.

“Kiyoomi! Oh thank God you’re awake,” Shouyou says, spotting him by the door. “Dinner was going well… Until they both wanted to stir the sauce at the same time and well…” He trails off as if it explains everything and sadly, it does.

Upon hearing their papai’s name, both Yuna and Rinoa gasp and drop the garlic bread and scamper over to him. Yuna narrowly avoids the bright yellow smoothie mix puddle on the tiled floor whilst Rinoa walks through it with little thought. They almost make it to him when Kiyoomi’s voice stops them in their tracks. “Yuna Vitoria and Rinoa Aurea, go upstairs and clean yourselves up.”

Kiyoomi’s not yelling, no, he would never yell at his daughters. But he doesn’t need to yell to get his point across and to command their attention. All he needs are their middle names. 

They turn around and begin to walk through the kitchen and towards the living room to get to the stairs when—“Rin-chan, wait, don’t walk on the carpet, your feet—“ Shouyou sighs tiredly when Rinoa does just that, leaving behind tiny footprints of mango and pineapple smoothie in the off-white carpet of the living room. Rinoa looks curiously at her feet, then turns on the spot and looks at the trail she left behind, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Behind her, Yuna gasps and covers her mouth with both hands.

“Oh no, papa!” Rinoa says, with genuine concern as she walks back to the first stain she left, not even processing Shouyou’s groan and Kiyoomi’s pained wince as she makes new marks to get back to it. When she realises what she’s done, she looks back and forth between Kiyoomi and Shouyou with wide brown eyes and with the look of complete surprise and shock. _“Oh no!”_

Holy fuck, it’s simultaneously one of the cutest and most mortifying things Kiyoomi has ever seen. He wants to laugh but passes it off as a cough because Shouyou legitimately looks like he’s going to break something. Or cry. 

Kiyoomi walks over to the sink, avoiding the yellow smoothie puddle on the floor along the way, and grabs a spare washcloth, rinsing it under the water, Then he walks over to Rinoa whose eyes are glossy, threatening to spill with tears. “I’m sorry, papai,” she says in a small voice, but Kiyoomi gently shushes her as he crouches and pulls her onto his lap, allowing him to clean her yellow feet. 

When they’re clean, he rubs her back assuringly. “It’s okay, I know it was an accident. Go on with your sister and get yourselves cleaned up, alright?” Rinoa nods and then runs to her twin’s side, before the two of them scamper up the stairs. “No running up the stairs!” Kiyoomi calls out after them, then he shakes his head and redirects his attention to his husband.

Shouyou, in short, looks as if he’s been in the middle of a warzone, with red and yellow liquids and sauces decorating the once-pristine kitchen. “They wanted so badly to impress you, to be the one that helped papai get better that they started fighting between themselves,” sighs Shouyou. 

“Their intentions were good, even if their execution wasn’t.” He nods towards the stairs. “You go and get cleaned up too. I’ll stay and finish up here.”

“The whole idea of us cooking dinner for you was so that you didn’t have to cook dinner, Kiyoomi,” Shouyou points out.

“I’m feeling much better,” he tells him, and it’s the truth. “Besides, you’ve cooked nearly everything anyway. I’ll just clean and set the table, okay?”

With a heavy, defeated exhale, Shouyou concedes and rubs his face, only to realise that it’s half-covered in spaghetti sauce. He scowls and throws the spatula into the spaghetti sauce pot, which results in the splattering of more sauce on his person. He sighs again and Kiyoomi kisses his cheek (the one without any sauce on it) comfortingly. “It’s okay, meu solzinho. You did wonderfully, you’re a good father.”

“I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

**saturday 7th august 2032  
men's volleyball, gold medal match  
kiyoomi, age thirty-six  
** **shouyou, age thirty-six  
** **yuna and rinoa, age six**

“Can you see papa?” Kiyoomi asks.

“Yeah! He’s down there with Tio Renan!” Yuna says, pointing down as she and her sister look down from the luxury box of the arena. With them are Motoya and Rintarou, who lost against Russia in the semifinals two days ago, and Natsu who became a gold medalist yesterday following Japan’s triumph over Brazil. 

“Tio Renan is sooo tall! He’s like a great big tree!” Rinoa adds. “Like a cherry blossom tree because of his pink hair! I want pink hair like Tio Renan!”

“Maybe when you’re older we can dye your hair,” Kiyoomi tells her, and she beams up at him with a bright smile.

“Wahhh look at papa! He’s got a number one on his jersey because he’s the best player on the team!” Yuna cries out and Kiyoomi hasn’t got the heart to correct her because well, her logic isn’t exactly flawed and it’s not far from the truth at any rate.

If Shouyou could, he would play volleyball until an injury or old age forced him to stop. Even with the latter condition, if he were an eighty year old man, Shouyou would still insist on playing somehow. Even if it’s just being the (very old) ball boy. So it came as no surprise to Kiyoomi that Shouyou decided to continue to play volleyball and he was now the oldest player on the Brazilian National Team and also the captain.

It’s strange, Kiyoomi thinks, to be outside of the court. The built-in habits within his body tell him that he’s in the wrong place, that he should be down there, on the court, at Shouyou’s side. He knew what would happen when he retired, but knowing something and being prepared for it are two completely separate things. He misses the sharp air around the court, smelling like air salonpas, and misses the sensation of a satisfying serve. But most of all, he misses playing with Shouyou on stages like this.

Throughout his life, he’s spent so much playing either with him or against him that he’s had very few chances to actually watch Shouyou play volleyball. And here, now, Kiyoomi finds himself falling in love with Shouyou and volleyball once again.

Shouyou puts so much of himself into each receive, each serve, and each spike that he makes it look like an artform. He’s grown and changed and evolved as time goes, becoming a new person with each development and Kiyoomi grows more in love with each person he becomes. There’s not a version of him that he doesn’t love, that he doesn’t adore. 

When Brazil wins and after they’re given their gold medals, Shouyou turns towards the viewing box where his family are. He presses a kiss to the medal before lifting it high in the air for them, like a declaration saying: _For you, minha vidas._

**june 2037  
kiyoomi, age forty-one  
** **shouyou, age forty-one  
** **yuna and rinoa, age eleven**

Age is a strange thing, Kiyoomi reflects. The young wish to be older, while the older wish to be younger. The youth envy the authority of their elders, while the elders covet the beauty and time the youth have. But the older he gets, the more he realises that everyone, all old and young people are fairly the same. Just different ages. Everyone has those stories that they tell over and over again and everyone has fears they hold onto despite knowing better. In the end, humans are just trying to get to the end of each day.

To truly enjoy life, one must simply ignore their age and spend their time doing what they love with whom they love.

Kiyoomi learned that from his grandmother. She lived with little care as to how old she is and what social conventions told her what she can and cannot do. He’s ashamed to admit that he unintentionally fed into those conventions, but Kiyoomi’s older now and hopefully a little wiser. 

Nami passed away earlier this year at the incredible age of one hundred and one, the age she determined to live to. Though saddened at her loss, Kiyoomi couldn’t find it in himself to mourn her because it’s not what she would’ve wanted. She would’ve wanted people to celebrate the life she led, rather than mourn her death. In her will, she left him her home in Okinawa, along with a personal message that read: 

> _Live your life in such a way, so that at the end of each day, if it were your last day, you would be satisfied and have no regrets. Be kind and never love in silence. Love boldly, love proudly, and most of all, love fearlessly. If you do not have time, then make time._

As a retired athlete, time is all that Kiyoomi has. Time to spend with his daughters, braiding their hair and painting their nails and letting them do the same to him; time to date his husband, for marriage doesn’t mean the end of courtship; and time for himself, to do the things he’s never had the time nor the courage to do before. 

Once, during the spring, Kiyoomi attended a pottery workshop twice a week and came home with all sorts of gnarled and unsightly lumps of clay, but by the time summer rolled around, he had moulded and shaped an entirely new set of plates and bowls for them to use at dinner. Another year, Kiyoomi learned how to knit by watching tutorials on YouTube. That had been over the winter season and naturally he knitted matching jumpers for the entire family. Granted they were only worn for photographs given the hot climate in Brazil but they were still treasured nonetheless.

Though he has the accolades and qualifications to be a coach for a volleyball team, Kiyoomi chose to be a boys’ volleyball coach for the local high school near their neighbourhood, while Shouyou, newly retired since last year after his fourth and last Olympics, continued on to become Romero’s assistant coach for Asas. 

When they had retired from volleyball, Kiyoomi thought that he might be able to have an extra hour’s sleep, but found his routine mostly unchanged. He still gets up early, not to have a run, but to prepare breakfast for the family and to pack their lunches for the day. Only once breakfast is ready and the lunches are packed that he takes a shower. By the time he’s finished and dressed, Shouyou and the girls are downstairs and there’s a fresh cup of tea waiting for him, brewed by his husband. 

After that, it had been a matter of making sure the girls had their school bags ready and getting everyone into the car on time for drop offs. That was more challenging than waking the girls up in the first place. It came to the point that Kiyoomi would read off a checklist and everyone would double check to make sure that they had it. It’s tedious and monotonous, but effective. From that point on, no one had ever forgotten anything. That is, unless Kiyoomi forgot to read out the checklist.

After dropping everyone off at work and school, Kiyoomi had the rest of the morning to himself and that usually meant going on runs with their dog or reading a book. He would have something light for lunch, nothing too heavy, before he sets out for the local high school where he volunteers as a volleyball coach for the boys’ team for the afternoon. 

Renan drops Shouyou off on Mondays and Fridays, and as per their tradition, he stays over for dinner. Only this time, he brings his wife and small child with him too. 

If there’s any day that Kiyoomi can sleep in, it would be Saturdays and Sundays. On those days, Shouyou takes the reins. In the morning, he takes the girls down to the beach to play volleyball with a family friend and when he returns, he prepares brunch for the two of them. They spend their precious time together doing things that one cannot otherwise do when the potential of being walked in on by your own child is high. And they also do simple things together. Like baking, or going on a walk, or just watching television. If Shouyou is feeling particularly nostalgic, he’ll put on a video of one of their old matches together.

“Wahhh, I looked so young back then!” He exclaims as he watches himself on the screen. 

Kiyoomi looks back and forth between the two Shouyou’s, comparing them and thinking that there’s little difference. He may have more wrinkles now, but wrinkles merely indicate where laughter has been. Wrinkles are lines of human wisdom and joy painted with the brush of time. And his hair is now a paler shade of orange, but still looks like the gods above bestowed a crown of sunrise upon his head. Kiyoomi thinks he could give the god of youth and beauty a run for their money.

He leans in and leaves a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “You are still beautiful to me, meu solzinho.” 

“And you are just as handsome as the day we married, meu coração,” Shouyou tells him just as he returns the kiss. “Sixteen years this year since we married. Where did the time go?”

“I was hoping you would tell me.”

“Oh! Oh! Look at you!” Shouyou says, redirecting his attention to the screen. Kiyoomi watches his younger self soar through the air, his joints bending in ways that make him wince now. Oh how he envies him.

Afterwards, they drive down to the beach together to collect their daughters from their club. “Hey Rubens! How are they doing?” Shouyou asks upon approach. Rubens Romero, Nicolas and Rita’s son, grew up to be a formidable beach volleyball player, following in Ninja Shouyou’s example. As a player, he has been to the Olympics not just once, but twice, each time bringing home a medal. He aims to go once again in three years. He’ll be thirty by then.

“They’re naturals, of course, Tio Shouyou,” Rubens tells him, smiling brightly as they approach. From this angle, he looks a lot like his father, Kiyoomi thinks. Yuna and Rinoa run to their fathers, tackling both of them with a hug.

Shouyou turns to his daughters and grins. “How about we play a game to test that?”

“Aww yeah!” Yuna cheers.

“Can you take my place for a set, Rubens? I’m still a little full from brunch,” Kiyoomi says, lightly patting his stomach.

“Sure thing, Tio Kiyoomi.”

“Make sure you watch us, okay, Papai?” Rinoa says.

“Of course, minha vida, I’ll be cheering for all of you too,” he assures her. Satisfied with his answer, she runs off to play alongside Rubens, while Yuna and Shouyou play against them on the opposite side of the court.

As Kiyoomi watches them play volleyball together with the sun soaring high in the sky, he thinks about choices and consequences, specifically, the ones that led him to this very moment. For all his envy of his younger self, Kiyoomi admires his courage. Not in volleyball, but in love. The courage to not only seize love but to love deeply and widely to those around him, to pay proper attention to them, today, tomorrow, and all the way up to his last day. Oh how he admires his younger self for opening himself up to love. If he hadn’t, he might not be here now, harvesting the fruits of his labour.

A set passes when Kiyoomi replaces Rubens on the sandy court, joining his family for a game of volleyball. 

**august 2044  
kiyoomi, age forty-eight  
** **shouyou, age forty-eight  
** **yuna and rinoa, age eighteen**

“Good luck, Yu-chan! Good luck, Rin-chan! I love you!” Motoya calls out, his face spread across Shouyou’s phone screen. “Play harder but work harder! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do but definitely do anything your papai wouldn’t do!”

“Alright that’s enough out of you, talk to you later, Motoya.”

"Wait, wait—” Kiyoomi leans across the front and presses the red button on the screen, effectively cutting his cousin off, before he returns his attention to the road ahead of him. "That's much better."

"You can be so mean to him sometimes," Rinoa scolds lightly.

“Oh your papai and your tio have been like that since they were children,” Shouyou says. “It’s just their way of showing how much they care for each other, that’s all.”

“Exactly,” agrees Kiyoomi, nodding his head. “Plus you don’t know your tio like I do. He only ever shows the good side of his personality to you.”

“I still think you’re being a little mean,” Rinoa teases, as she twirls a lock of pink hair around her finger. Then she leans in from the backseat of the car, pressing a light kiss to her father's cheek. “But that’s okay! At least we know where Yu-chan gets it from.”

"I'm not mean," Yuna says, looking up from her phone and pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose with her middle finger. "I'm just upfront and honest if I don't like something or someone, rather than pretend and get into a bigger mess later. At least people know where I stand."

"Well yeah, not saying that's a bad thing, but you could work on your delivery, Yu-chan," her sister teases as she pinches her cheek. That, in turn, is met with a light push, which then escalates into what could have been a mini brawl in the backseat had Shouyou not intervened. Not that they would ever intend to hurt each other. They fight and make up in the same way that Kiyoomi and Motoya do. The girls quickly make amends when Rinoa offers Yuna some amendoim torrado which they had bought before leaving. 

It's strange, Kiyoomi thinks as he glances at his daughters in the rear view mirror. One day, they had just been these tiny babies in their arms, and the next, they're in their first year of college, ready to make their mark upon the world somehow, no matter how big or small.

Another hour later, they arrive at the university, ready to drop the girls off for their second semester. Rinoa is enrolled to study biochemistry—Kiyoomi likes to think that career path originated from that one (just one!) occasion where he got sick—while Yuna has an athletic scholarship for volleyball, and is enrolled to study nutrition and dietetics. 

As they drop the girls off, they share a goodbye and one last checklist from Kiyoomi.

“Do you have your phones?”

“Yes.”

“Your keys?”

“Yes, papai.”

“Your wallets?”

“Oh no, I think we left that at home,” Yuna teases sarcastically, earning a playful push from her father. “Just kidding, yeah we have them. Come on, papai, you did this when you first dropped us off.”

“Last thing, do you have a hug?”

“Huh?”

“Incoming!” Shouyou says, and together, they pull their daughters into a hug. Hugs are criminally underrated expressions of affection, Kiyoomi thinks. 

When they pull away—and they do, regrettably—they part ways with their daughters and begin the drive back to their home. In the passenger seat, Shouyou turns the radio on and sings along to the song playing on the station. Some new song from a band that Kiyoomi doesn’t recognise but thinks he would have listened to if he were younger. The windows are pulled down and the wind intimately greets them as it runs its fingers through their hair. Ahead of them, the roads aren’t quite empty, but they aren’t busy either, and the early evening sunset provides a golden backdrop for their ride home.

If Kiyoomi were to define the word ‘peace,’ it would be this moment here and now.

“You know, it’s been forty years since we met,” he tells his husband. “I have to ask, what did you see in me then?”

“You’re asking me what I saw in you forty years ago? Meu amor, I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning.”

“Crepes with strawberries and blueberries and whipped cream,” Kiyoomi supplies helpfully.

“Oh. Thank you,” says Shouyou, half impressed that Kiyoomi could remember. “Luckily for you, I do remember. I just saw a boy who was alone and needed to be loved.”

“Loved? I thought you said that I needed a friend.”

“Well,” Shouyou links their pinkies together and rests their hands on top of the gear shift and looks wistfully towards the window, admiring the iridescence of the sky above them, “they’re the same thing, really.”

Throughout his life, Kiyoomi learned five important lessons. 

Falling came first, falling out of solitude and into the vulnerability and security of companionship. Rooting was second, choosing between familiarity and the boundless unknown. Third was growing, growing through the heartache and pain, growing in strength and courage. That led to the fourth lesson which was blooming, blooming to become something beautiful and brave and bold. And the fifth and final stage was harvesting, to reap the fruits born out of everything that came before.

All of this, so that he could learn how to grow with sunlight.

Hinata Kiyoomi is forty-eight years old now. He knows that words can have multiple meanings. He knows that the word _sun_ also means his best friend and his husband. Forty-eight years old and he’ll continue to love Hinata Shouyou for forty-eight years more, and another forty-eight years after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here at last, at the end notes of the fifth chapter of this fic, comes the end of the story. i will not say 'do not weep' for not all tears are an evil.... ok ok amended lotr quote aside, thank you for coming on this journey with me and i hope you enjoyed every step ♡
> 
> special thanks to [shishou](https://twitter.com/orange_shishou) for the beautiful omihina family fanart!!
> 
> if you're anything like me and enjoy hearing writers' thought processes, then i have compiled a [carrd](https://htgws.carrd.co/) where you can read see "behind-the-scenes" content of how htgws was written and where i took inspiration from
> 
> come celebrate the end of htgws with me on: [twitter](https://twitter.com/kouushu) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/omihina)!!
> 
> once again, thank you for all the comments and kudos, this fic holds a special place in my heart ♡


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